A Tale of Two Roller Coasters – Part II: Top Gun

I don’t actually like roller coasters…metaphorical or real. So I haven’t ridden many of them. Two in 62 years, I think. Maybe three since I probably should count Space Mountain at Disneyland but I didn’t really realize it was a roller coaster until it was too late, so it wasn’t actually voluntary.

But my last ride was with my son, Brian, when he was 11 or 12. He and I and Karen had gone to Carowinds just South of Charlotte, North Carolina. I just looked this up on the Internet and the roller coaster is called Afterburn but I’m pretty sure it was called Top Gun when we rode it.

Karen and I had taken him to the park with the understanding that we were not going on any really dangerous looking thrill rides. But, since he learned to talk, Brian has been an expert at nagging, whining, arguing, debating, and being a general nuisance until he finally gets his way about everything.

So, still trying to figure out how I was going to get out of it, I soon found myself in a long line of people inching their way upward toward a place where heavy clanking noises interspersed with screaming people became louder with each step. We finally reached a platform onto which I stepped with a feeling I can only compare to the moment, a few years ago, when I entered the pre-op room to prepare for having my prostate removed.

Brian, on the other hand, was so excited that he insisted that instead getting in the fast-moving line for general seating, we join the special line for an additional thirty minute wait so we would be seated at the very front of the roller coaster.

Having abandoned all hope of rescue, my goals had become very basic: 1. Don’t embarrass myself in front of my son by screaming like a girl. 2. Don’t lose bladder control. 3. Don’t lose my shoes.

The goal about shoes was based on the fact that Top Gun (or Afterburn) is a roller coaster where, instead of being buckled into a confined seat, you are strapped onto a steel contraption that hangs down under the roller coaster. Signs warn passengers that they may lose shoes that are not fastened securely.

Top Gun was originally designed, I believe, by Don Cheney to be used by special forces for interrogating terrorists. I know that by the time I was tied in, I would have told the truth about anything to anyone. Except, of course, when Brian asked me if I was scared, I immediately lied and said, “No. Are you?”

Brian said, “No.” But in his case, he was telling the truth.

Dangling like a rag doll, clanking up toward the stratosphere, I had plenty of time to think about things like not screaming and was my last will and testament up to date. Near the apex, Brian commented happily, “What a great view! You should open your eyes, Dad.”

Being at the front of the ride and hanging underneath it, there was no visual evidence that I was secured to anything…just floating in air…forever…and the bottom dropped out and I was hurtling toward the ground.

But what pushed me over the edge was that I had been mentally preparing myself, knowing that the first big drop would shoot upward again long before we’d have any chance of actually hitting the ground. But now looking straight down, I saw that the masters of torture had designed this thing so it actually went straight down into a tunnel. A tiny hole in the uprushing Earth.

I learned at that moment what my last words will be if I’m about to die a terrifying death. No, I did not scream like a girl. I muttered the words, “Ohhh boy,” and was swallowed by the ground.

When the ride was over, and we had rejoined Karen, I was rather pleased with my composure. No screaming, no moaning, no swear words. But I couldn’t figure why Brian was laughing at me. “What?” I asked.

“Did you hear yourself?” he asked.

“Yeah. I said, ‘Oh boy,’ right? What’s the big deal?”

“But you shouted it out a million times!” he laughed, shouting out, “Ohhh boy ohhh boy ohhh boy ohhh boy ohhh boy…” Then he added, “Can we do it again?”

No.

He doesn’t always get his way. And while I don’t know what the future has in store, I do know that there are no more roller coasters in it.

Tomorrow is Hometown Photo Shootout -- alternate means of transportation. I have no roller coaster pictures.