Coasting

Mike and I went to his company's employee appreciation party at Carowinds on Saturday. I hadn't been to Carowinds since I was in high school. A lot has happened since then and I couldn't help but let my mind drift a bit as I walked through the park. There are many new rides (or new to me), most of them being roller coasters. They were shiny and twisty, smooth and fancy. The seating was even "modern" compared to other coasters. Instead of traditional seats where one climbs aboard and plops into a bucket, the new coasters had seats where your feet dangled or they tilted backwards (much like how the passengers rode) or there was no seating at all. The riders simply stood and were harnessed into position. Overall, great improvements that made the coasters edgier.

Towards the end of the day, Mike and I walked to the back of the park. There was a coaster I recognized- The Hurler! It's old and wooden and the line was non existent compared to the hour-long lines we'd been enduring. Mike and I walked right up and got on board the traditional coaster.

It took off like all others and memories came flooding back. This coaster rocked when I was in high school!

I remembered this moment.

The car clicked up the hill. It jolted as wheels met track and belts pulled at the train.

Click, click, click.

I looked at Mike and he was grinning as I imagined myself doing. The park beyond him was shrinking as we climbed the hill. Someone in front of us was already screaming. We were at the top and gravity was calling.

We sped down and the old tracks let us know their age. It felt like we were running over a bunch of firecrackers. The wooden tracks seemed to buckle underneath us and I realized that maybe there wasn't someone screaming in front of us. Maybe it was the tracks.

We flew faster than the other coasters we'd been riding. I then realized that the speed wasn't making it more enjoyable. The rails fought the metal train and were ferociously winning. There was that scream again. Was I getting a headache? We caught the hills and my stomach was somewhere two seconds back. Awesome!

We raced around the corners and I prayed. All I could think about was whiplash and that maybe I was too old for this. I looked at Mike. His face mirrored my own. It was this odd combination of thrill and hate.

Oh, geez, another turn. This meant another dance with the Whiplash Devil. I looked ahead and could tell that we were a little over halfway done. I definitely had a headache. I must be old now. I should write AARP and inquire about a membership.

Somewhere between the headache realization and the screeching halt, we finished the ride.

"WOW!" I caught my breath and said another quick prayer (of thanks this time). "THAT was an experience."

Mike laughed. The man in front of us turned around and grinned with apparent agreement. He had to be at least thirty. I wondered if he was going to need help off the ride.

We all made jokes about the ride while laughing a little uncomfortably. I wondered if their laughs were laughs of relief too. We had survived.

The Hurler is a fitting name. I wasn't tempted to physically go where it suggests but I sure threw out (up?) any ideas that I could endure that ride again. Maybe it means I am old. Maybe I was just an idiot when I rode it in my younger years. Or finally, the tracks have just changed themselves. They're wooden and aged. They're weathered, but still perform.

I've weathered some things myself. Been on my own roller coaster since then. I'm looking forward to staying on it for as long as I can.

It was good to return to an old stomping ground with my new friend.