As a kid being raised on the Central Coast, I used to long for the Boardwalk. Unfortunately it was a solid 60+ miles away and expensive as anything.
I used to watch those commercials on tv and know that I was missing something. I freaking was. The arcade was top of the line. The rides were above anything that ever blew through Monterey, and it was in a lot of ways more fun than Great America; which was further up the road.
The key of it all was the Giant Dipper though. I dig that sucker. It is old school. Wooden. You can also look at the bay as you get ready to make your first drop. No loop-de-loops, just straight old-school rolling and clanking at what seems to be about 60mph. That ride has always seemed manly as hell to me. It is the clicket-clack. The balls. The all-out grandiosity of the spectacle. It is something that you need to go through if you live here.
So, enter 2007. I now live in Santa Cruz. I also have a season pass to the Boardwalk. So do Yzzy and Ivan. Luther isn't quite there yet.
Today was Ivan's first serious roller coaster ride. The Giant Dipper of course.
Imparting the first roller coaster ride is something a father should do. It is manly. It is up there with first bikeride, first R-rated film and I dunno, maybe first cigar.
My father used to take Casson and I to Magic Mountain every now and then. We would wait forever for a ride on the Colossus. We would also ride the Revolution. Apparently, the Revolution is the roller coaster that wrecks in the movie, "Rollercoaster." Speaking of the movie, I saw that with Casson and my father in sensurround in LA back when I was a kid too. After I got out of college, I made a pact with myself to only read crappy literature to counter all of the so-called "good" literature I had been force-immersed into. I picked up the novelization of the movie "Rollercoaster" and read it in one evening. DOPE AS HELL.
Yeah, the clickety-clack of a roller-coaster runs that deep.
It was good to see Ivan bouncing around (I sat behind him and Yz). He disappeared at a point or two, sinking into his seat below my eyeshot. He later told me that his pants had unbuckled and he was adjusting his fly, mid-ride. Balls, man. The kid has 'em. It was good to hear the excitement in their voices as they stumbled out. It was also good to swoop the picture downstairs that they wanted to sell for just a mere testicle with my camera-phone.
Ivan isn't out of the woods yet. He got off and countered all of that grown-up roller coaster trash with a helicopter ride and a cheesy car ride with no steering wheel in the kiddie zone. But I think that the little fella is well on his way.