Extreme Vinyl Café (26 page)

Billy and Dave had a plan to go the summer they were fifteen. They never made it, of course, and soon enough life took over. To everything there is a season. Dave
missed
the season of roller coasters.

And he’d forgotten about them for twenty long years, until the leafy summer his son, Sam, was six. It all came back on a summer afternoon, sitting in a schoolyard, watching Sam, as he pumped back and forth on a swing.

Dave wasn’t thinking about roller coasters. Dave wasn’t thinking about anything, really. He was just sitting there the way you do, enjoying Sam on the swing, enjoying, especially, the moment at the high point of each forward arc, when his son was virtually upside down, his legs kicking at the sky, his head falling back—that motionless moment before gravity asserted itself, and the cables on the swing buckled, and the inevitable return to earth.

Dave was lost in the peaceful pumping of his pendulum son, until Sam abruptly ended the moment by launching himself off the swing. He left it at the strategically perfect moment, using the centrifugal force to catapult himself into the air,
alarmingly
high and fast, his little arms and legs flapping as he tried to keep himself upright. A little cannonball.

Dave gasped and lurched off the bench. He began to run across the park toward his son, in horror.

Well, part of Dave was running toward Sam in horror. Another part of Dave was still sitting on the bench thinking,
Wow, that looks like fun
.

Then Sam hit the ground, with a thump and roll, a twist of arms and legs.
That
didn’t look like fun. And then there was a moment of profound silence.

And in that moment, the part of Dave that he had left behind on the bench sighed and got up and started loping across the field too, thinking as it did,
I wonder if he was actually weightless
.

Sam sat up, holding his arm.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Which is exactly what the emergency-room doctor said as he put on the cast.

“You’ll be fine,” said the doctor. “We’ll see you in six weeks.”

D
ave took Sam to the amusement park before the cast came off, which would have been fine, or should have been, except Sam was only six, way too young. And Dave, who was old enough to know better, was way too keen.

But the seed had been replanted, and when they got there, the first thing they did was to get in line for the roller coaster.

As the line moved closer, close enough for Sam to see what they were waiting for, he began to whimper.

Dave said, “Come on, it will be fun.”

Sam shook his head.

Dave picked Sam up, more or less lovingly, and held him close. He began whispering calming, reassuring things. Sam seemed to relax a little. Dave continued his supplication.

“Look,” said Dave, pointing at the roller coaster.

The people sitting in the roller coaster looked terrified. They were clinging to one another. A woman in the front was screaming. Sam couldn’t imagine what horrible thing was happening to them, but he knew from the way the lady was screaming it was bad. He didn’t want any part of it.

“It’ll be fun,” Dave said. “It’s just like riding on a swing.”

At the word
swing
Sam stiffened and began to squirm in Dave’s arms.

“No, no, no, no, no,” said Sam. Then he collapsed into tears.

Dave’s shoulders sagged. It was time to concede defeat. He turned and began to work his way back down the line, “Excuse me, I’m sorry. Excuse me please.” Sam was crying and thrashing, the cast flailing around like a club.

They finally made it to the entrance, where Dave spotted a weary-looking father being dragged to the roller coaster by three loud and highly enthusiastic children. As this small group pushed past them, Sam’s swinging plaster-encased arm clipped the defeated father full on the nose. Dave heard a crunch. The man staggered under the blow. His hands flew up to his nose.

“I’m bleeding,” cried the man.

Dave didn’t even look over his shoulder. Dave kept going.

D
ave and Sam spent the rest of the afternoon hiding out in Kiddieland—a quiet and grassy oasis, with a climber, a cage of coloured vinyl balls and a slide in the shape of an elephant. Sam played happily, while Dave sat morosely on a bench pulling little bits of cotton candy out of the hairs on his legs.

T
hey went back the summer Sam was eight. This time they were better prepared. They talked about roller coasters for weeks before they went. Sam was pumped. They lined up for forty sticky minutes. When they got to the front of the line, a man wearing a duck costume took one look at Sam, shook his head and said, “Not tall enough.”

“What?” said Dave.

“Fifty-four inches,” said the man. “He’s too short.”

People began to push past them. They headed back to Kiddieland. Sam pointed at a ride. A circle of giant bumblebees that went around and around in a small slow circle. Dave and Sam watched it for ten minutes, standing right beside the fence so it appeared as if the bumblebees were flying right at them.

Sam said, “Can I try it?”

He rode the bumblebees three times. After his third turn, he staggered off and said, “I don’t feel too good.” Then he threw up.

T
hen, one night two summers later, Sam said, “I still haven’t been on a roller coaster.”

They went back to the park again. Just the two of them.

They went late on a Friday afternoon. Sam rode his bike to the record store. When he got there, Dave and Brian were playing a game of Ringo. A house favourite. They use a homemade launcher to shoot plastic forty-five record centres at a turntable, trying to land them on the spindle.

“Hey,” said Sam, as he walked in.

“Hey,” said Dave, firing a record centre at his son. “I’m pumped. You pumped?”

They got falafel from a little family-run falafel place and ate
in the car. They arrived at the park at 6:30. The sun was beginning to dip. It was the perfect time—to be coming as the day was going. They bought a roll of tickets.

The park was full.
Just as it should be
, thought Dave. You wouldn’t want the place to yourself. Diving into the crowd was like shoving a canoe into a stretch of whitewater. The river of people picked you up and carried you along. Somewhere, mixed with the noise of the crowd and the ringing bells, floating above the red and yellow flashing lights, Dave could hear Cream singing “Sunshine of Your Love” through a tinny PA system.

They walked passed Kiddieland.

“Remember?” said Dave, pointing.

Sam shook his head. “No, what?”

“Nothing,” said Dave.

It took them twenty minutes to get to the roller coaster.

A lot has happened in the world of roller-coaster design over the last forty years.

Dave had missed all of it.

They were standing in front of The Hypergeist—a roller coaster that the sign said would exert a force of 4.2 Gs as it tossed and flipped its way through two loops and a corkscrew.

Slouched against a control panel was a young guy with long hair tied in a ponytail and a ring through his eyebrow. He was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt and torn black jeans. He looked bored and inattentive as he waved people onto the ride. Hardly the kind of person you want with their hands on the controls of a two-ton steel machine meant to convey
hundreds of innocent people around a raised track at breakneck speeds.

“Has anyone ever had an accident on this ride?” said Dave as he looked for the tickets.

“Not that I’ve ever noticed,” said the guy.

An older fellow in overalls wandered over and said it was time for the young guy’s break.

The older guy looked more on the ball.

Dave said, “Exactly how fast does it go?”

“Depends on the weather,” said the guy in the coveralls.

“The weather?” said Dave, clearly unnerved.

The man shrugged. “The wind slows it down.” He nodded at the sky. “Night like this, hot like this, it goes a lot faster. Or when the rails get wet. Hard to stop it when the rails are wet.”

The idea of variables made Dave edgy. He had assumed there were no variables. He had assumed that his ride would be like all the other rides. The ones that had come back safely.

Sam said, “Let’s get in line.”

There was a big sign just before the platform. Dave grabbed Sam by the shoulder and restrained him. He said, “Just a minute.” Dave wanted to read the sign.

Do not speak to operator.

Do not walk on the track.

Do not put arms outside the car.

Do not ride if pregnant.

Do not ride if you suffer from heart palpitations, vertigo, high blood pressure, atrial fibrillation, night sweats, anxiety disorder or peanut allergy.

“Come on,” said Sam.

Dave said, “Just a minute.” Dave kept reading.

This ride may cause shortness of breath, excessive sweating and dry mouth.

Dave mopped his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. He was having a hard time catching his breath; his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth.

Some people may experience nausea, confusion, disorientation, muscle twitches or an overwhelming desire to urinate.

Dave crossed his legs and began bobbing up and down slowly. He squinted at the sign.

Do not go on this ride if you have silver amalgam fillings, or worry about going mad, or have had precognitive experiences that involve hurtling to your death in an amusement park while trapped in a grisly little car that leaves the rails and you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to and that will be your last thought.

“Huh?” said Dave.

“Come
on
,” said Sam.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” said Dave.

“Oh brother,” said Sam.

For the second time in their lives, they slunk out of line. As they passed a group of teenagers, Sam muttered, “They won’t let him on the ride. He’s pregnant.”

“W
hat is the problem?” said Sam.

“I
can’t
do this,” said Dave.

They were sitting on a park bench. They were eating cotton candy. They were passing a pop back and forth.

Sam said, “It’s normal to be afraid. You are supposed to be afraid. You aren’t going to die. You can’t die.”

Dave thought,
Sometimes people die
.

Sam said, “Not here. Not tonight. That would be ridiculous. What are you afraid of?”

They finished their candy. They finished their pop.

Dave said, “I don’t know
what
I’m afraid of. I’m just afraid.”

Sam stood up and held out his hand.

Dave said, “Go without me. I’ll watch.”

Sam said, “I have a better idea.”

“Okay,” said Dave.

Sam said, “Do you trust me?”

What could he say to that? He nodded his head.

Sam said, “Good. Okay. Stand up and close your eyes. Promise me you won’t open them until I tell you.”

Dave closed his eyes. Sam took his father’s hand.

Dave said, “If I die I am going to
keeel
you.”

Sam said, “Just don’t open your eyes.”

Sam led him through the park; through the bumps and the bells, and the screams, and Dave didn’t open his eyes. Not once. It was very, very hard. But Dave kept his eyes closed.

And then they stopped. Sam let go of his father’s hand and walked up to a park carney. He said: “My father needs help. He’s blind.”

Dave
really
wanted to open his eyes now, but now he
couldn’t. Now he
had
to keep them closed because the man had him by the elbow and was helping him into a seat.

As he sat down, Dave put out his hand and felt the seat. And
ohmigod
he wanted to peek so badly, but the man was right there. Dave could feel his breath, could sense him, reaching across. He was fastening Dave’s seat belt. He could sense Sam sitting beside him. He could sense the car starting to move.

Sam said, “Are you scared?”

Dave said, “Yes. I’m scared. But it’s okay.”

Sam said, “Don’t be afraid.”

They were moving slowly.

“This isn’t so bad,” said Dave.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Sam.

Dave said, “Can I open my eyes?”

Sam said, “Not yet.”

They were picking up speed.

“I can feel it,” said Dave.

And then Sam said, “Okay. Now!”

And Dave, who had been clutching the bar in front of him, didn’t open his eyes right away. Instead he lifted his hands off the bar, and he held his arms in the air over his head just like they did in the pictures you see of people on roller coasters and he yelled like those people. He yelled as loud as he could. “AAAAYYYIEEEEEE.”

Then
he opened his eyes. And saw he was on the giant bumblebee ride. Sam was sitting beside him with his head in his hands. And a group of adults, whom he had never seen before in his life, were waving as he circled slowly past them.

Dave said, “What are we doing?”

Sam said, “De-conditioning you.”

T
hey went into the Giggle Palace, and stood in front of the funhouse mirrors. Sam’s mirror stretched him tall and impossibly thin. Dave’s made him look like an overweight child.

Perfect
, thought Dave. He couldn’t say when it had happened but he wasn’t going to deny it. He couldn’t keep up with his children anymore. His son knew more about computers and iPods than he ever would. His daughter had just sent him an email about a music group he had never heard of. He felt as if he had to run just to keep up these days, and even though he was running as fast as he could, he knew he was slipping behind. His children were passing him on the highway of life.
This
was just another milestone along the way. Soon there would be plenty more. And that wasn’t the worst part. One day, before he knew it, he would have to pull over and wave goodbye. Sam would leave him behind.

“Okay,” said Dave. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure?” said Sam

“No,” said Dave. “But let’s do it anyway.”

And so off they headed across the park for the second time. Back to the lineup they had quit three times now. As they came abreast of the warning sign, Dave said, “I’m just going to shut my eyes for a moment.” And that’s what he did. Sam led him along the line, talking all the time. “When we get there, look ahead at the track in front of you. It will make you feel balanced. When we start up, keep your body relaxed, and let your neck and shoulders go limp. If you start to feel queasy, push your right foot down into the floor, grab the bar like a steering wheel and pretend you are driving it.”