Rollercoaster
If you sit in the front car on the “Cyclone” rollercoaster at Coney Island, you’ll feel as if you’re going to be pitched out over the front of the thing and then be crushed by the train as it hurtles down the first big dip and the rises into a teeth-jarring turn to the right.
But it’s a sensation not to be missed, although perhaps you should really heed the sage advice of a guy sitting behind you and hold your glasses in your hands rather than leave them on your face, where they’re not apt to stay unless you get lucky and/or have fast hands to catch them before they’re off onto the tracks below.
The whole ride lasts less than a minute, but, frankly, I was pretty ready for it to be done, even though it was a screaming riot the whole time. The thing is like 90 years old and still packs a wallop, even more than the modern conveyance, something called the “Soarin’ Eagle” that we rode later, a contraption that has you lying down face first over the tracks upon which you’re riding and also features several 360 degree spins along the way.
Coney Island was charming in its tawdriness; I especially liked that you could get a beer (or a Pina Colada) right there on the boardwalk and that, in the civilized state which is New York, a parent can sit with his child in a bar, just so long as the youngster is drinking something non-alcoholic (although even that might have been permitted in the dive we found ourselves in.)
It’s surprising to me that in all the times my family came to New York City when we were kids, we never (at least as far as I can recall) never visited the place; although I’m not sure I’ll ever go back, I’m pleased to note that my kid, at least, will have enjoyed its ragged charms in her youth.
But it’s a sensation not to be missed, although perhaps you should really heed the sage advice of a guy sitting behind you and hold your glasses in your hands rather than leave them on your face, where they’re not apt to stay unless you get lucky and/or have fast hands to catch them before they’re off onto the tracks below.
The whole ride lasts less than a minute, but, frankly, I was pretty ready for it to be done, even though it was a screaming riot the whole time. The thing is like 90 years old and still packs a wallop, even more than the modern conveyance, something called the “Soarin’ Eagle” that we rode later, a contraption that has you lying down face first over the tracks upon which you’re riding and also features several 360 degree spins along the way.
Coney Island was charming in its tawdriness; I especially liked that you could get a beer (or a Pina Colada) right there on the boardwalk and that, in the civilized state which is New York, a parent can sit with his child in a bar, just so long as the youngster is drinking something non-alcoholic (although even that might have been permitted in the dive we found ourselves in.)
It’s surprising to me that in all the times my family came to New York City when we were kids, we never (at least as far as I can recall) never visited the place; although I’m not sure I’ll ever go back, I’m pleased to note that my kid, at least, will have enjoyed its ragged charms in her youth.
posted by Professor Dave at 6:11 AM
2 Comments:
I think we DID go to Coney Island when we were kids - but not as part of trip to NYC - it was while we were at the New Jersey Shore, and we came over for a day. But it seems to me that stuff was closed? I'll have to look at the family vacation pictures -
Actually I just figured it out - we never went to Coney island when we were kids because most of the amusement parks there were basically closed in the '60s and '70s - and if we wanted to go to an old style amusement park with good roller coasters, there was always Kennywood!
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