A Ride on a Roller-Coaster

"It looks kind of scary, said Evan, seven, apprehensively. We craned our necks, looking up and watching, as two by two, parents and children screamed their lungs out. (This is a family of two children.) I clenched and unclenched my clammy hands, waiting for the boys’ decision. Brad, ten, decided to go for it. He had come here determined to ride a roller-coaster. Evan watched a few more passengers whizz by and reluctantly agreed to try it. I let out a sigh of resignation. He had been my only hope for avoiding this stomach-churning ride. Now it became my responsibility to be the zealous cheerleader who would help him through the nerve-racking process of waiting for his turn despite my fears.

Standing near the tracks, we heard the machinery clanking and grinding, working to provide the excitement that these die-hard thrill seekers were after. As I envisioned myself strapped and stranded in the car, hanging fifteen metres in the air with my terrified son, I was tempted to voice my concern about the routine maintenance of roller-coasters.

"They go up really high, don't they, Mum?" observed Evan with bated breath, as car after car was lifted straight up to its take-off point. I felt queasy just watching it. Doubts began to get the better of Evan and he said quietly, "I don't know if I should do this, Mum."

I knew it was my responsibility as a mother of two boys to show them a brave front in spite of my own pounding heart. If I was not careful, the legacy of being excessively fearful would be passed to the next generation. So I wore a happy face despite my own jitters. My husband, the roller-coaster enthusiast, rolled his eyes at the hesitancy with which his family was approaching this thrill ride. Nearing our turn, I became short of breath. Then Evan said the words that I had been yearning to hear - "I don't think I want to do it." I let out an audible sigh. As I removed myself from the line, Joe (another person) gave it one last effort, "Are you sure? I think it'll be fun. That little boy had fun. Look, he's laughing."

Clearly, Evan was torn. Looking from the roller-coaster, to his father, to me, it was apparent that this was a heart-wrenching decision for him.

"It's alright if you don't want to go." I assured him, "but you have to decide now. We're next." My body was already heading out the exit in sheer relief, anticipating his negative answer. All set for a reprieve, my body had relaxed and entered spectator mode.

“Okay, I’ll go!” Evan shouted. My stomach clenched – I was doomed. Evan climbed into the front position with determination. I held tight to Evan. I was intending to comfort him yet I was oddly comforted by his stoic attitude.

As our car headed out into the track, everything was a blur. The wheels turned above me and then all I knew was the wind. Twisting, turning, screaming our way around the track, our bodies shuddered and jerked. Rushing down a slope, we felt an odd sense of flying. Then it was over. As our car slid to a stop, I extracted myself from the seat and stood up. Weak-kneed, I turned to see a huge grin plastered on Evan's face.

"That was fun!" Evan exclaimed. "Except that Mum screamed in my ear the whole way!"

True enough, I had survived the fearsome ride. I felt like Wonder Women. However, there was no time to bask in my victory. Both the boys, grabbed my hand, shouting, “Come on, Mum! Let's go on another one!”