The Roller Coaster

Ah! A subject near and dear to my heart. They've certainly changed a lot over the years.

This was the coaster I grew up with, The Rocket, at Playland Park in San Antonio Texas.

See? Nice normal roller coaster.

And, now, we have a new one called Inferno in Spain.

God, I feel old.

The Rocket

Playland Park was an old fashioned amusement park near downtown San Antonio, which opened in 1947. I have an incredibly fond history with Playland Park.

I remember being about five or six years old and being amazed at their signature ride, a wooden roller coaster called The Rocket. To me, it looked like the most terrifying ride in the world.

I remember my dad and I watching the coaster and him explaining how it would gain enough speed from the first drop to make it coast up to the top of the second hill. I just thought that was the coolest thing ever.

My dad had grown up riding this same coaster and wanted to take me on it but there was no way I was going to get on it. Besides, I didn’t see any little kids riding it – only teenagers and the like – so I told my dad I would ride it when I was nine.

To me, nine years old seemed like “big kid” and, surely, I’d be brave enough to ride it then.

(I wasn’t)

Flash forward to 1972.

I was in the eighth grade and my mom took me and my friends to Playland Park for the day. All my friends were having a blast on The Rocket, but still, I was too afraid to conquer it. However, I got my best friend, Tim, to take my little pocket camera on board and snap this photo as it crested the lift hill.

A few days later when I got the photos developed, I was just amazed at the sight, looking down the first plunge of the terrifying ride. Frankly, I’m pretty amazed that the photo turned out this good, especially since a cheap little pocket camera had been used.

I love this photo.

Flash forward to 1980.

I was a junior in college and some friends of mine and I were in San Antonio for the weekend. Somehow, I convinced them to go to Playland Park for the day.

There, at the end of the midway was The Rocket, the source of my chickening out year after year. Finally, I rode the thing and just loved it.

I think I rode it about five times that day.

It’s a good thing I did, for the very next year, Playland Park closed forever and was abandoned. For several years after that, I’d drive past and see my old friend, The Rocket, becoming more and more weather beaten in the weeds.

Here’s a photo of what’s left of Playland Park in San Antonio.

I don't think there's anything more sad than an abandoned amusement park.

Epilogue: Strangely enough, the defunct old coaster was given new life. It was purchased by a small amusement park in Pennsylvania, dismantled piece by piece, refurbished and re-opened as The Phoenix. (A very appropriate name) It operates to this day at Knoebel’s Amusement Park in Elysburg, Pennsylvania.

Here's a photo of it after having been resurrected as The Phoenix:

I hear it still provides one hell of a ride.

One of these days, I’d love to go there and ride my old friend.

To me, it will always be The Rocket

The Rocket

I’ve been a roller coaster nut ever since I was five years old and saw my first coaster.

Playland Park was an old-fashioned amusement park near downtown San Antonio, Texas, where we were often taken as kids on weekends. At the end of the midway was the crown jewel of Playland Park: A wooden roller coaster named “The Rocket.”

The Rocket had been built in 1947 and stood about 80 feet tall; not a huge coaster by today’s standards, but it was definitely the main feature of the park. My dad had ridden it many times as a teenager and obviously had fond memories of it. I remember being about five years old when he took me around to the back of it where we could stand close to the first drop. A train of riders came clink-clink-clinking over the lift which seemed enormously high to me at the time. Then, whoooosh! It sped down the hill with everyone screaming and coasted up to the next. I stood there transfixed, in amazement. My dad then explained how the train gathered just enough speed from the first drop to make it to the top of the next hill; my first lesson in inertia. We stood there watching train after train speed around the wooden track.

I was hooked.

Of course, Dad asked if I wanted to ride it.

“Are you kidding me?” I thought. It looked absolutely terrifying. The ride seemed full of Big Kids; teenagers and the like. It was obviously too intense for the likes of a little kid like me. I'd ride the carousel, the little Ferris wheel and other kiddie rides, but the roller coaster was for Big Kids.

In my mind, nine years old seemed like a Big Kid, so I promised my dad I would ride it when I was nine.

Nine years old came and went. I was still too chicken to ride it then even though my dad reminded me that I’d promised to tackle it at that age.

When I was in the eighth grade, my mom took me and some friends for a day at Playland Park. Again, I was still too intimidated to ride the Rocket with all my friends. I remained watching them ride it over and over, seated on the same park bench where my dad and I had sat many years earlier.

However, I asked my best friend, Tim, if he’d take my little pocket camera and snap a photo from the front seat of the ride. It still have that photo to this day:

When I saw this terrifying sight, I knew I’d never ride The Rocket.

No way!

Flash forward to my junior year in college. . . .

I’d been visiting some friends in San Antonio for the weekend. That Saturday afternoon, we drove by Playland Park and just for fun, I suggested we head in for a while.

There it was. The Rocket. It didn’t look as big as when I was a little kid or in the eighth grade.

I was definitely a Big Kid now. . .

I bought a ticket and climbed on. . . .

That ride on the old, rickety roller coaster was one of the happiest, most exhilarating experiences I’d ever had. I remember cresting the top of the lift hill and looking down at that same park bench where I’d spent so many hours watching everyone else ride it.

It turned out that that summer was the last season for Playland Park. It closed just a couple of months after I’d finally conquered my beloved Rocket. The park was abandoned but the Rocket stood there for several years after that, silent and falling apart among the weeds.

I’d never get to ride it again. I’m so glad I finally did that one summer day in 1980.

Here are some pics of Playland Park having been abandoned many years ago: And the remnants of the carousel I rode as a little kid:
Epilogue:

It turns out that The Rocket was quite a popular coaster. In 1985, a small amusement park in Pennsylvania bought The Rocket, moved it piece by piece, re-assembled it, and re-named it “The Phoenix.”

The Rocket lives! It’s been thrilling riders ever since and, from what I hear, runs faster than ever.

If I ever make it to Pennsylvania, I’ll be sure to ride it. I’ll be the one waving to the little kid on the park bench; the one too afraid to ride.