And off we went. Like all rides, knowing what’s coming takes the edge off the second time around. This time, instead of screaming, I breathed deep long exhales on the steep drops to prevent that horrible plunging feeling in the pit of my stomach. This time, I let myself be thrust and dropped and jolted without resistance. This time, I smiled just exactly as a *flash!* blinded me in the descending Orlando night. And as I’d hoped, the picture came out showing two happy redheads and two goofy adolescent boys (who, judging by their poses, knew exactly where the camera was) having the ride of their lives. I bought the biggest photo package they offered.
A day or two passed before I reflected on my roller coaster odyssey and could recognize it as the exquisite metaphor for life, which it obviously is. Like wild rides, we embrace life fearlessly in our youth, exhilarated by rather than fearful of the unknown. We prod and torment those older than us, keeping them young at heart. They, in turn, become our wise if sometimes reluctant guides. With time, we learn to react with fear when we can’t see what’s coming, and then further learn that treading the same path breeds comfort and familiarity. “I can do this, I’ve done it before,” we reassure ourselves, but only for so long before an unexpected twist impels us down an unforeseen path or derails us altogether. We bolster ourselves with inner encouragement, “I think—I think it’s going to work this time,” only to later scream “Oh no!” with regret and perhaps wish for the cocoon of soft darkness to ease the struggle.
With enough hindsight, we realize we’ve surmounted challenge upon challenge, no matter how steep, and that inevitably a new one begins the minute the last is over. Emboldened by our survival, we get back on for another ride and time and again the cycle repeats, perhaps not just within one lifetime but over several. Until that one ride on which we finally become aware that it’s just a ride. Even if it all goes horribly wrong we know it will end and that at that end, everything will be okay. We will be fine, and we will still be. It is then as we reach our limit, on the brink of overload, that we at long last lessen our grip, breathe deep, and amidst the chaotic race forward, sit back and smile.
Now I know I’ll never be too old for roller coasters. In fact, that’s impossible. I’m on one every minute of every day and so are you. The only question left to ask yourself is, “Are you having fun yet?”
