The Thousand Yard Stare

This is a picture of the Texas Cyclone – at the park formerly known as Astroworld.  The area is now just a dirt lot – having succumbed to a lagging economy and generally becoming a crappy theme park. It was demolished back in 2005 or so.

While I spent many a summer running around the park (alone or with my brother), I’ll never forget the first time I went to the park. Or at least the first time that I remember riding the Texas Cyclone. This was back in about 1981 or 1982, so I was probably ten years old.  I went with a good friend of mine who swore that no matter what we did, we needed to get a tiny loaf of bread (freshly baked) from the Mrs Baird’s shop on the main street.

We picked up the bread first, and headed over to the Texas Cyclone. Walking past the remote control boats (where one time I was given change for a $1 bill with Susan B Anthony $1 coins – meaning for every dollar I changed, I made three bucks profit!), and down the mesh enclosed tunnel – we made our way to the Cyclone as the last ride of the day. Not having been on a full wooden rollercoaster before, I was apprehensive. I clutched my bread in my tiny hand and we stood in line.

The ride itself was relatively mild – having ridden it so many times since that first time, it didn’t strike me as the worst full wooden coaster ride I’ve ever been on (that distinction belongs to the Texas Giant at Six Flags Arlington – I felt like my fillings were being rattled out of my head). There was always the myth about the last car of the coaster being more violent (and supposedly having killed people).

So, by the end of the ride, I had squished that little Baird’s bread in my tiny hands as I gripped the bars on the roller coaster ride.

It’s not so much the ride I remember, as it is the little half loaf of bread that hand finger sized indentions – like brass knuckles without the rings.

I don’t know why this memory occurs so often for me. It happened last night when I was going to sleep – as it usually does.