I love the real thing. The anticipation as you climb the hill, the sound of the chain clicking beneath you. You can’t quite see the top, it’s up there, and you know it, but as it curves away, the track becomes impossible to see.
And then you free-fall. Your heart is in your mouth, you scream, part of you wants it all to stop, another part is exhilarated by the madness of it all.
You hit the bottom, it’s G-Force inducing curve dropping your stomach like a rock. Up another hill, this time faster as the momentum rockets you through curves, spins, twists, and even loops.
You can’t stop, you have no control. You hope you live, all the while thinking about how quickly you can go through the line and do it again.
The adrenaline. The rush. The high.
Sometimes, though, life is the roller coaster. Not being able to see the track? It’s terrifying. Climbing the hill is hard work. The view from the top? It’s spectacular. The free fall can feel endless, and the force when you reach the bottom nearly crushes you under its weight. The curves, twists and loops? They can leave your head spinning, wondering where you’ve been, and where you’re going.
Sometimes, you’d like to just step off the ride. Just for a bit. You’d give anything for a chance to just stand in line, to let your mind and stomach settle. Or perhaps it’s ok to keep riding, but you want the little hills from the kiddie coaster – the big hills are just to much.
Every once in a while, you even feel like you’ve had more than enough time at the bottom, bearing that extra weight, feeling it pull you down even further, right through the bottom of the car.
That, my friends, is when we are glad we can grab the hand of the person sitting next to us on the ride. Glad we are not alone. And we’re oh so thankful for that view from the top.