[Jonathan]

It was Spring, 1976. It was a rainy Tuesday. I had just turned 8. Our family trips to Carowinds always started with a ride on the Skytower, so we could point out what each of us wanted to ride first. Powder Keg always won the first ride, but I knew what I wanted to do. I had seen the commercials about "the country boy that spent the day at Carowinds.” We made our way to the back of the park and there it was. Between Harmony Hall and Country Kitchen, there was a path. It was a long path that stretched beyond the bathrooms, over the railroad tracks, through an endless wilderness, and ended at the largest rollercoaster I had ever seen. There it was, looming through the mist, beckoning me to forget everything an 8 year old knows about physics. I clutched my Mom’s hand and took the long walk.

We chose the side that looked like a ’55 Ford Fairlane, sat down in the plush seat at the back of the train, and pulled down on the lap bar. The lap bar was the same as Goldrusher’s , but not as snug. As we climbed higher and higher on the lift hill, I thought that there was no way this thing will keep me in this train. I think my Mom had the same thought, because she held me tight! The first drop lasted forever. I didn’t catch my breath until the second hill and before I knew it, we were at the turn around. We squealed around to the next drop and, for the first time ever, I came out of my seat! We dipped and bobbed and went roaring through the tunnel, and then it was over. My heart was pounding, my palms were sweating, and I wanted to ride again!

Mom and I rode Thunder Road many more times that day, and countless more times through the years. When my daughter became of age, I introduced her to my Thunder Road. It was her first coaster. I clutched her hand and held her tight.

-Mike, age 47 from Tega Clay, SC

[Jonathan]

Though I don't recall the exact year, I must have been around 10 or 11 years of age when my family took my brother and I on a trip to Carowinds in early spring of the year. It was my first trip to any amusement park that I could recall apart from Walt Disney World. It was certainly my first time in a park with true "thrill" rides and I was scared to death of the "big" rides. I felt great excitement and some apprehension from the atmosphere and can recall my mixed emotions vividly even now.

My brother Paul was fearless. Beyond me in age by 6 years, he had been assigned my caretaker and mentor for the day. After spending the morning planted on "The Scrambler" ride while my brother spent his time in an extended conversation with the attractive ride-op, we wandered through the park taking in the atmosphere and several more of the sedate rides including a trek out and back on the park's monorail.

By early afternoon we had finished lunch and my brother and I lazily worked our way around the park. Soon, we approached the "Thunder Road" entrance sign and Paul saw his chance. "We haven't ridden any roller coasters yet". I didn't speak, I just stood, staring at the sign and out to the impossibly tall structure rising behind it. In my mind, it was a thousand feet tall and I could not imagine the terror it imparted upon those sitting in its seats. I watched as each train slowly climbed, up, up, up, then crested the rise and fell away as fresh screams drifted across the park. "If it's so scary, why would you ride?" I thought to myself. "It's really fun!" my brother interjected, snapping me out of my fixation. "Come on, you can ride with me. I'll make sure nothing bad happens. We can try it one time and if you don't like it, we don't ever have to ride again." He continued, goading me, reassuring me that all would be fine and I would find the experience great fun. I looked up to him, as you do with an older brother and I did trust him. After shuffling my feet and staring at the ground for a moment, considering my fate, I reluctantly agreed to go.

We entered the walkway and made our way up to the station. A pair of trains shuffled out of the station, splitting in their respective directions, turning, squeaking, rattling their way to the lift hill. The fresh smell of grease and warm wood hit my nose as my wide eyes watched the ride's smiling, giddy passengers head off to what had to be certain destruction. I also saw those who had just disembarked, heading out of the station. What was this? They seemed happy? laughing and jostling each other as they excitedly recounted moments from the experience they had just shared. A glimmer of hope stirred within me, maybe this was something different than I thought? Maybe it won't be too terrible?

We descended the ramp and into the cover of the station. Lines had formed in each of the stalls with excited riders. Across the station, the opposing set of riders pressed against the gates, anxious to board the train just gliding into the station. Paul wisely had us take up our place on a row around the center of the train. With each train that entered and exited, we inched closer to the track in our row. I was filled with fear but had a sense of excitement as well. I looked around me and realized that I was a participant, a member of what was an exciting prospect for everyone involved. The ride operators announced "Enjoy your ride" as each train rumbled out of the station.

Finally, the gates opened and I stepped nervously into the train. My brother followed, sitting down and assisting me with my lap-bar. "I got you. You'll be OK." He told me reassuringly. Restraints were checked and before I could fully grasp the moment, we slowly creeped down and out of the station. We turned and shuffled along the track past the train storage shed and engaged the lift chain. My heart was pounding, my hands were cemented to the bar and I thought to myself, "I may have made a mistake" but it was obviously too late now. The train began its climb as we angled back. The anti-rollbacks started their now familiar clacking as we ascended. My mind was fixated on the top of the hill. It was so far away and so high...gosh! My brother put a reassuring arm around my shoulders and shouted, "This is gonna be so much fun!" We topped the hill as I read "No standing" then, before I knew it, down the hill. The terror that initially filled me was profound. I felt my stomach float up into my throat and let out a yelp, not fully capable of screaming as my breath had been taken. In a flash, we were at the bottom of the hill then racing up the next at what was certainly a thousand miles an hour. Up and over the hill we raced as I literally experienced the first brief moment of "air time" in my life. My eyes started to water, partly from the warm, humid air blowing into them but also because I started to cry from the fear and anxiety that I felt. We screamed along, the opposing train keeping pace beside us. Then, it hit me, all at once, in a wave. I had survived... I was OK... this was... actually kinda cool. Paul yelled and screamed with excitement as we lurched up the turn around at the end of the outbound trip. After the turn, again we plummeted down and then up, the train screeching and rumbling as we tore along. I looked over at him and squeezed out a brief smile as we continued. I watched the train snake along in front of me as we rolled over the final hills then into a tunnel. We hit the brake run and the train jerked as it slowed to a crawl then into the station. I had made it. We didn't die after all! In a moment, our bars were raised and we made our way out of the station. Again, Paul put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me, "You okay little brother?" I answered with a shaky voice, "Yea...I'm OK." We stopped along the walk as he looked down into my face, drying tear streaks across my cheeks and said, "You did it! wasn't it fun?" The whole thing was a blur to me at this point but had stirred an amazing feeling in me that has not faded to this day. I smiled at looked back up at him, "Can we ride it again?"

-Alan, 46 from Franklinton, NC

[Jonathan]

This was my son last Thursday, knowing it would be his last ride on Thunder Road. The line was up the ramp, and he was in tears the whole time. It's amazing how sentimentally attached a 9-year old can be about a roller coaster. I guess I would have reacted the same way at his age back in 1982. What was funny was that adults in front of him were trying to console him, thinking he was scared to ride. He is just crushed that his favorite ride will be gone next week.

-Michael