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Riders on the Cyclone, NYC

The last time I rode the Cyclone was immediately before this group of people. In fact, one of the riders in the photo had ridden the rollercoaster with us. He was a boy, just shy of his teens. He had ridden it once before we were to embark. As the coaster rolled into the landing, he held a crisp five dollar bill in his hand in order to ride again.

As we rode, he told us not to worry. He had been on a number of times. He turned to talk to us, but his words were lost in the wind. The sharp turns slammed us back and forth so we couldn't concentrate on what he was saying anyway. At each drop I found myself screaming so as not to lose the voice clamoring to escape my throat.

The ride was shorter than I remember, though no less exhilarating. Each turn and drop seemed calculated to keep us guessing. Just when I thought I knew how steep and far the drop would be, it became that much steeper and reach that much further. I couldn't believe how this wooden rollercoaster, built in 1927, could still excite me in ways more modern steel rollercaosters couldn't (not that I ride so many coasters or am an officiando by any stretch of the imagination).

As we pulled into the landing, the boy in front of us had another five dollar bill in his hands. He raised it up for the operator then settled in, waiting for the next ride.