Trares
The train shuddered to a stop as we all collected our breaths.
Anthony sat silently next to me, staring straight ahead.
I was about to ask how he was, when he exclaimed with a shout, “That was AMAZING!”
He had just completed his first ride on the Gemini, one of the more beloved rollercoasters at Cedar Point amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. And judging from his reaction, he liked it.
Last weekend was a continuation of a tradition that has been ongoing since Anthony was a baby. We loaded up the car, hit the road and headed for the shores of Lake Erie to visit my dad. Though we get to see each other at holidays and often at least once during the summer, we have set aside a weekend each fall to stay with him at his lakeside home.
We go out to eat, sit out on the patio and catch up on all kinds of news from the year.
But most of all, we take a trip to Cedar Point.
My dad lives right around the corner from the thrill-seekers’ paradise, a place that holds a special spot in the story of my life. Growing up, every summer included at least one trip to the park, and usually many more than that.
When I was a kid, my parents would take us up for a full day of cheese on a stick, vinegar-drenched fries, and as many rides as we could fit in. My high school years took that experience up a notch, as my friends and I would drive over on the weekends, or just take advantage of the reduced-rate evening hours during the weekdays. We’d make a race of it — literally running from ride to ride to cram in as much adrenaline-fueled fun as we could.
I had not been to the park for years once I moved to Indiana. But when Anthony was born, and we worked to figure out ways family members could see him, my dad suggested coming to visit and going to Cedar Point.
Once he got old enough to do the kids’ rides, Anthony has been excited to go. When he was younger, he stuck to the more age-appropriate rides. He’d settle into the little kids train, twirl on lazily spinning hot air balloons and pilot antique cars along a track. As he grew older, he also grew bolder, stepping up to the more aggressive Atomic Scrambler and one of his favorite, the Matterhorn, a whirling dervish of a ride.
But a few years ago, Anthony wanted to up the fear factor: he wanted to go a real-life rollercoaster.
His first foray was the Iron Dragon, which hangs from a track above you, as you dipped and dove around trees and over water before finishing with a series of sideways loops. He was anxious at first as we inched up the initial hill, but afterwards he was so excited he couldn’t wait to do it again.
Then, last year, we tried something new. The Mine Ride is a Cedar Point classic that was a favorite even when I was a little kid coming to the park. The mine train-like ride is more fast misdirection rather than big, steep hills, and Anthony loved it so much we immediately wheeled around and got back in line after riding it.
Another step up was in store this time around.
The Gemini is another one of those classic rides that I remember from my childhood. The wooden coaster is a racer — two trains run simultaneously, and quirks of physics means either the red train or the blue train finishes first.
I had suggested we ride it in the days leading up to our trip. Anthony was skeptical, but open-minded; we decided to just see how he felt after seeing it in person.
As we walked towards it, he decided it didn’t look too foreboding. We were in.
After a 30-minute wait, we were on the blue train, heading up the 125-feet-high hill. If Anthony was nervous, he didn’t reveal it, instead excitedly chatting as he rose higher and higher.
Then, we tipped over the crest and rushed down the track.
We raced down and around, up and down, screaming all all the while. By the time we reached the end of the ride, we were breathless from laughing and cheering. It was a great ride.
The Gemini is now Anthony’s favorite ride, one that’s sure to be on the itinerary for any future Cedar Point visits.
We’ll see where we go from here.
Cedar Point has no shortage of increasingly absurd coasters and rides, with multiple versions taking you hundreds of feet into the air only to plunge you back down to earth at speeds nearing 100 miles per hour. Others corkscrew around in a series of loops, or dangle you in mid-air before dropping you like a stone.
Not sure if Anthony’s going to be interested in them. But if he is, you know I’ll be right next to him for the adrenaline rush.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to editorial@therepublic.com.
