Dreaming of Daisy

Chapter 1 - Summer Before Sophomore Year of College

"We were teenage dreamin', front seat leanin'
Baby, come give me a kiss
Put me on the cover of the Rolling Stone
Uptown down home American kids
Growin' up in little pink houses
Makin' out on living room couches
Blowin' that smoke on Saturday night
A little messed up, but we're all alright"

(American Kids  -Kenny Chesney)

The park was nestled on the wooded shores of a small great lake. The guests and seasonal workers alike could scan the horizon for miles and look out at the water until it blurred into one with the beautiful blue sky. James never got tired of the views. The small amusement park, was just one piece of this regional puzzle, nestled alongside the small great lake. There is also a camp ground, a 1950s style diner selling peanut butter milkshakes to die for, an environmental center, and of course the main attraction. The peninsula.

An almost island and state park stretching for miles into the lake with a semi-circular curl back to the mainland. That curl protects the bay, the dock, and the myriad of marinas that make up the city's bayfront area. There is a tower, walkways, lighthouses, monuments, and other places to peruse by foot, bike, or car. The vantage points to look at the city across the bay or out to the lake are everyone. One vantage point though, is unlike any other. It offers more a fleeting glimpse than a view. You do everything in your power to try and soak in the view as fast as possible, but it never stays as long as you would like.

The view is from a crown jewel as unique as its setting. A true landmark in the region. The lift hill and first drop of the small park's biggest ride is the number one place to see the lake and peninsula from. The roller coaster is the place every thrill seeker must go when visiting the region. It doesn't offer the typical commercialized props and guessable dips and twists, because it doesn't need them. The ride was created specifically for its location. No other roller coaster can copy its thrills because it fits into the region like it was meant to be there. The wooden tracks must have been the fitting crown that the glaciers pictured when they carved out the peninsula along that shoreline.

James felt these things more so than thought them on his way up the lift hill. He was towards the back, which was his favorite place to ride. You get the to enjoy the surprise of being swept over the peak. The front car crests the top of the wood slope, and for a few seconds, dangles over the threshold, quietly waiting for the front of the train's gravity to overtake the rears.

Clacckk! The ratcheting of the lift chain lets go and for a split second the train sits there, awaiting further guidance from gravity. Every rider can scan the lake for miles. For those split seconds, you can see the sun still hanging just above the blue horizon, and see the long line of beaches stretching out eastward into the blue water. You take in the view as fast as you can, overwhelmed by the beauty, and the long drop down that quietly awaits. James looked at the girl in the seat beside him and smiled, "better keep your hands up," he said with a smile. Then, the front of the heavy metal train's gravity pulled the rest of it over the the hump.

The lift chain had fought valiantly to pull the train up that hill, but gravity abruptly took back what it was owed. The bright red train accelerated down the first drop quickly. The butterflies in every stomach were coming out of the woodwork, and the lap bars pulled the riders down into the ravine with the train. After the 100 foot drop, the train now careening at over 60 mph immediately bound back upwards, and rushed through the blue bridge and across the road. The telltale sounds of Americana assaulted every sense.

The steel wheels on the tracks sounded off with a thunderous chorus of clacking which echoed off the tunnels, trees, and landscape. The excited high pitched screams of teenage girls pieced the ears, while the more low pitched yell of the boys provided a balanced undertone. The thick gurgle of motorcycle engines revved as they transitioned gears down the road below.