We climb into the bucket seats as the space-age safety harness glides over our heads and clicks into place. Now there is no going back. Behind us and on the alternate Robin track, the other riders, mostly teenagers looking for the last rush of the summer, clamber in, their chatter clattering off the cavernous walls. Stretching out in front is nothing but wind and track. I clench my chilled hands tightly around a cold metal handle.
Panic begins to take over.
The operator gives a quick nod. Truly, the warning was unnecessary. Five Gs plastered my body to the back of my seat as the car whipped from stillness to 70 mph in three seconds. In a heartbeat, the train shot skyward, dangled upside down for a long, tortured breath, and hurtled us to the ground. Three quick twists followed, like quicksilver in a crazy straw, before we screamed up a slope that ended in nothing but air.