My eight-year-old son, Nico, is fearless. I know what you're thinking, "Dude, what 8-year-old kid isn't fearless? They don't understand the concept of danger!" However, while you read that line, and as I sit here and think, I will convince you that my statement is accurate!
I'm already smiling because I am reminiscing about that day last week when my son saw how scary that amusement ride was, and it didn't phase him. On the other hand, my heart still pounds when I think about it now, as I did when I was eight years old.
At the fair, a giant beast of steel and lights is built by mortal men. This ride is only fixed in some places. Once the ride is done over a week or a weekend, it is torn down and will only be rebuilt again at the next fair.
This steel frame rises above the black asphalt, casting a shadow of fear for those who aim to avoid it. It truly is a monster. The steal legs jettison out from the side like a kraken! Those beams are mounted into the ground with large stakes that are jagged with teeth for a firm grip underneath the earth's surface. Those spikes keep the circular steal from toppling over while it shakes, rattles, and rolls those who dare to ride it. Inside the steal is a track where a long, large-capacity car welcomes people who dare to step inside. The straps and bar alone are scary enough because it basically says, without a word being spoken, "Strap in so you don't fall out and die."
Once the "all is clear" is given by the assisting attendant, who was just strapping down willing participants, another person activates the machine. The large tracks inside begin to rock back and forth like a washing machine agitator using its massive hydraulic pumps. The sound is menacing, and the roar shouts to those on the ride and those spectators watching 'It's alive." Victor Frankenstein, eat your heart out.
The momentum sways the people back and forth. The rider's sequel with anticipation of the complete loop! As it builds speed, the car launches forward. Then gravity pulls it back down. The teeth of the machine catch it and, like a catapult, lurches forward again. But it climbs halfway up the loop before plummeting backward up the other half. It does this until it has enough speed to repeatedly propel it into a complete circle! It's called the Superloop, but for some reason, they called this Superloop the Free Bird!
Sure, I have been on scary rides and crazier roller coasters in my lifetime, but this ride holds a special place of fear in my heart. It just instilled fear within me ever since I was a little boy. As a child, I thought my brother was crazy for riding it, and that fear has stayed with me ever since. Now I feel the same about my daredevil son.
I stood in line with him so he wouldn't be alone while waiting his turn. I was prepared to whisk him out of line whenever he said he wanted to go. I feel like a fool for not being willing to participate with my son. I took notice of a group of boys behind me who were irrelevant to my fear. I also marveled at their indifference to the ride as these teenage boys simply talked about girls, complained about their Snapchat Chat, and tossed in an occasional curse word. But their cussing was not because they gave a single thought to this beast.
I began to feel so guilty that I decided that I wouldn't ride it and let my son go at it alone. It was the only time in my life that I had never sacrificed anything for either of them. My bad feeling was compounded by knowing that my youngest son, who stood stoically beside me, wanted to ride the Free Bird just as bad. However, Christopher couldn't ride the Free Bird because he didn't reach the required height of 48 inches. He fell just 2 inches under. Next year will be his year.
The person operating the ride also acted as a DJ, changing the music with a high-intensity base. The music couldn't drive out my thinking, and I couldn't figure out if the base was moving my beating heart 3 inches to the left or right of my chest or if it was just my fear.
The metal structure was littered with LED lights that shimmed to the music. My son watched the ride go around, and the lights gave him a twinkle in his eyes. He wasn't going to be denied. My son overcame fear and rode a ride I hadn't dared to try all my life. He was fearless in a way that made me proud. Maybe next year, when Christopher grows 2 more inches, so will my courage, and we can all ride together. I want to be fearless, too.
