I’ve never been a fan of roller coasters.
When I was quite young, my exposure to these things was pretty modest. The Iowa State Fair and the annual National Cattle Congress in Waterloo both featured rides set up by traveling midway companies, and the roller coasters were, as these things go, pretty tame. Then, when I was about fourteen, I had a chance to go to Six Flags in St. Louis with my second cousin, and they had a serious coaster there; I don’t remember what it was called, but as I recall, even at that robust age it left me a little green.
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Now Six Flags in Chicago is introducing a new roller coaster, the “Wrath of Rakshasa,” and it’s apparently a world-beater.
The new ride features a “heart-stopping 171-foot drop at a record-breaking beyond-vertical 96 degrees,” according to its website. It is referred to as the “steepest, most inverted dive coaster in the world.”
“Six Flags Great America continues to push the limits of innovation and thrills, as we introduce the world’s steepest drop with the most inversions on a dive coaster,” Park President John Krajnak said in a press release provided to FOX 32 Chicago. “Wrath of Rakshasa joins our already impressive lineup of record-breaking roller coasters and attractions at the park, demonstrating our commitment to delivering cutting-edge experiences for our guests.”
When it opens, Wrath of Rakshasa will send riders into five inversions over 3,239 feet of steel track. The coaster will reach speeds of 67 mph.
I’m not sure why they don’t just call it the “Puke-A-Palooza” and have done with it.
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Plenty of people enjoy these things, including my kids. That’s great – every cat its own rat, as my grandfather was fond of saying. Some folks like being shaken, rattled, and rolled, and there were occasions in my late teens and twenties when I was talked into roller coasters and other stomach-twisting rides, usually because there was a girl involved, and I didn’t want to seem unadventurous. Then, the Army, and my stomach and I become inured to such things as riding in a UH-1 flying nap of the earth. So, after doing things like that a few times, I figured a roller coaster would be small potatoes.
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Then, one summer found me in Virginia for a brief stint at Ft. Eustis. My oldest daughter, then six years old, spent the summer there with me, and one weekend the girl I was seeing at the time (this being before I met my wife) and I took the kid to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. My daughter, of course, wanted to go on one of the coasters. I forget what it was called – this would have been, if memory serves, in 1988. But boy, do I remember the ride.
It started pretty tame, at least for anyone who has ridden on a nap of the earth flight in a UH-1. A slow climb, a couple of drops, a few sharp turns.
Then the row of cars climbed a steep slope, clattering away as it ascended. And ascended. And ascended. Finally, we came to the top – and plunged, screaming. Yes, even me. My daughter squealed in delight. The girl I was seeing screeched happily. I kept swallowing and was feeling pretty green. The cars slammed into another steep turn and shot to the top of another incline; I knew we had to be getting near the end of the ride.
Then, the raising disappeared into what looked like a grain-storage silo. We ended up speeding down into a tight coil inside that pitch-dark cylindrical structure, able to see nothing except for the strobe lights that flashed, on and off, on and off, until we finally reached the bottom, slammed around one final sharp turn, and slammed to a stop.
I barely made it to a trash can in time. I swear I threw up everything I had eaten in the previous six days; I would not have been surprised had I puked up my belt buckle and my shoes.
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That was my last experience with roller coasters.
If any of you readers try this new Six Flags torture contraption, more power to you. I’ll stick with fishing in grizzly bear country. It’s a lot easier on the stomach, and I feel certain it’s a lot safer.
I feel ill just watching it: