My girlfriend and I loved our earlier trip to Cedar Point so much, that we went a second time. Second time around, I was much better able to keep my hands off the bar during the rides, which made them even more fun. The thing is, we want to grasp on tight because of insecurity, the fear of flying off the ride. But really, holding on doesn’t do anything. If something went wrong, on say the Millennium Force or the Top Thrill Dragster, it’s not as though my holding on would really help matters at all. The bar itself is highly secure, and if it’s not keeping me on the ride, then there isn’t much that will. Holding on gives some illusion of added security, but that’s all, illusion. And it makes the ride objectively less thrilling.
The roller coaster bar is a gripping metaphor for the things we cling to in real life. The tighter we hold on, the less fun we end up having. If we try too hard to control our relationships and circumstances, we just stress ourselves out, and sometimes make things worse. Grasping on so firmly doesn’t really accomplish anything, anyway. If the solid bars of civilization, tradition, insurance, education, and so forth, are not enough to keep you on the tracks, what good will it do to hold on with your own meager power?
A good roller coaster is more than a mere thrill ride. It is a chance to release, to relax your muscles, and just accept the thrilling loops and twists which come. Maybe this sounds a little silly, but I think of the rides as a kind of “death practice”. When I die (and someday I will), that departure will be far more intense than the Maverick or the Mantis. Will I then be able to relinquish all the things I’ve sunk my claws into so deeply? Will I be able to enjoy that final thrillride or will I be stuck in a futile and useless struggle against the inevitable?
When I was about four years old, my older brother bet me a dime that I didn’t have the guts to ride the Ferris Wheel at the Flagstaff County Fair. I took him up on the offer. My parents pressed me, was I really willing to do it, but I stood my ground, I took my place in line, and boarded the ride. To a four-year-old, that county fair was as big as life, and the Ferris Wheel was higher than the sun. Once it began moving, there was nothing in my power to halt it. That didn’t stop me from trying: there I was, wailing for them to stop the ride. Of course, the operators just got a chuckle out of it, and the struggle accomplished nothing. It’s the same way in life, once you board, there’s no pausing it ’til you step off and collect your dime.
FURTHER READING
10 Metaphors for Life
Cedar Point Review
Right Action
Very Serious People