West Point Park

When I think of West Point Park, my memories fill with the roar of the roller coaster, the smell of frying funnel cakes, and the tangy flavor of ice-cold birch beer. When I was a child, my grandmother worked at the BF Goodrich plant in Oaks. As well, once a year the plant reached into its miserly pockets to give its wage slaves a day off at the local amusement park in West Point, Pennsylvania. For a young girl like me, I considered this a great highlight to my summer vacation. I would be riding all the rides that I could get on, and drink all the free soda I could stomach for an entire day!
So, usually on some bright sunny day in May or June, my grandparents would pack up a couple of our huge coolers with one containing a mountain of sandwiches wrapped carefully in waxed paper, a bushel of cooked crabs, cookies from the Charlie Chip company, some store bought chips and pretzels, and some cantaloupe for my finicky grandfather. The other cooler would be filled with ice and holding dozens of cans of sodas, mainly the cheap brands and of course a selection of the local Frank’s brand of beverages. Even though I was still in my age of innocence, I knew for a fact that nestled deep in the caverns of ice cubes below the sodas, were my grandfather’s constant companions – a bottle of Ballantine’s scotch and a dozen cans of Budweiser. The Park sold beer and spirits in its open air beer pavilions, but my grandpa was quite frankly a cheap bastard and preferred to bring his own, damn the law!

After our blue Ford station wagon was filled to the brink with the coolers, rickety fold up lawn chairs and a picnic basket filled with Dixie products; it was finally loaded up with two grandparents, the rest of my immediate family, and a couple of anxious kids. The drive was almost as exciting as the destination. We were leaving our everyday existence to go to this seemingly exotic locale of West Point Park. The row homes and storefronts of Norristown soon gave way to the open road of 202 North past Germantown Pike. At that time there were only a few strip malls and a wide open field that was home only to a few geese and a long abandoned restaurant. The big sign out in front of the barren stone building proclaimed that it was once the home of Bunky’s BBQ Shack, its dated architecture and signage told of the fact that it’d been decades since the last rack of ribs were grilled there. Quickly we sped on past the sparser landscape of businesses and small cul-de-sacs of homes. We rode past the community college, turned on the right past the old farm on Morris Road and further on to what were at that time vast swatches of undeveloped land. Once I saw the rows of Pine trees, started to get excited, for I knew that among this wooded area surrounding this tiny town out in the middle of nowhere it seemed, West Point Pike was not too far from where we were.

Finally, I saw the chain linked fence barely holding in the sounds and the merriment of the crowds around the park. Cars would be in a queue ahead of us, trying to ease themselves in for a good parking spot on the gravel lined lots. The first thing I’d see or hear of the park was the giant wooden roller coaster thundering towards the earth with its cargo of screaming patrons, only to lumber back up to the heavens again for another round. My eagerness would take hold of me bursting out in a huge smile, we’re here!
After finding a parking spot, my family would spring into action like a highly synchronized army setting up camp. With the exception of my youngest brother, we would gather up our supplies and food, looking among the rows of weathered picnic tables for a good place to sit. Meanwhile, my mind would be racing about which amusements I would get onto first. However I always had a set routine whenever I was at the park. From the time I was smaller, I would start at the front of the park which had the kiddie rides mainly intended for younger children. As I grew, I still did these rides first, even as I was a bit too big to get on most of them. My favorites from this slew of rides were first and foremost, the teacup ride. It was a blatant rip off of the Disney World ride, with its huge pastel painted and ornate spinning cups set on a track within a round concrete pavilion crammed with a line of excited young toddlers and their parents. Often I would get on this ride with my younger brother and my grandmother.

After a few more of the kiddie rides, I’d separate from my grandmother and leave her to entertain my little brother. I was not here to baby-sit and I had bigger fish to fry. As I was a bit older and finally tall enough to get on the big roller coaster by myself, I decided that the time was nigh for me to get over my big fear and finally slay the wooden dragon. There was only one real roller coaster at the park, and for years I had avoided it because it was just too frightening for me. However, one year, I decided that it was going to be different this time. Of course, I couldn’t just get on the coaster first; I had to psych myself up by doing the other rides I liked before getting to the final challenge.
Not far from the roller coaster sat the other slew of rides, mainly for the older kid and adult set. Of these, my favorites were The Whip, The Tilt a Whirl and the Swing Carousel. I usually would get on the Whip first. People were loaded two by two onto small carriages that went slowly along at first and then once they reached the end, they were whipped fast around the corner sliding along the track until its next revolution. I can still hear the creaking of the gears pulling the carriages along the oval track and feel the whoosh of speed as I would be jerked faster around to the other side. After that I knew I needed more spinning, so off to the Tilt a Whirl I went. I sat in a huge metal half shell padded with seating and painted up red, yellow and blue not unlike the pattern found on the spaghetti boxes stacked in the supermarket. The attendant would strap me in tight and I would hold on to the metal railing for dear life as the shell spun furiously around its orbit while the track surged along outside of it. Considering the copious amounts of free birch beer and picnic sandwiches I consumed during my time at the park, I had never thrown up on a ride which to this day surprises me.

Next, would be the swing carousel. This was special to me because this ride was almost like sprouting wings and flying around. I would alternate between stretching my arms out to feel the wind against my palms and clasping back to holding the chains on the swing, being ever so fearful that I might slip out of the harness and fall.
After this, I knew that it was time to face the monster. The big beast of a roller coaster that dominated over everything else in the park, the screams of the many riders could be heard routinely every time the coaster roared to life between loading more victims inside of it. I bravely marched to the big queue of people waiting excitedly to get on. I observed the young teenage boys full of bravado, that I knew would soon join the chorus of screams that rang out when the roller coaster reached its peak. I saw the young women giggling nervously and clinging to their boyfriends before their turn to ride came up. Then there was I, alone silently steeling myself for my inevitable destiny. As my place in line grew nearer, my arms and legs tingled with an ample mixture of emotions. In my mind, I was weighing whether or not I should just run back to the safety of the picnic table where my grandfather would be no doubt sitting comfortably with an ice cold one in his hand. Perhaps I should just give up and try again next year? Surely I will be taller and possibly braver along with it? Then, the roller coaster slid into the loading platform and I found that I was among the next group to be boarding. There was no turning back now.

The young pimple-faced man working the ride plopped me into my seat next to another girl, years older than I and double checked our seat belts. After that, he set the safety rail in with a sinister click that echoed with finality. I was sitting in the middle towards the back; I would never have had the gumption to sit at the front, which was for braver souls than I. With a lurch, the ride started ever so slowly onto the track, the patrons whooping and cheering for the fun that was to be had. I smiled but I wasn’t read to cheer just yet. The coaster rounded the first bend gathering speed; my adrenaline was pumping hard, my hands were clammy and slipping around the rail. A few slight inclines and a bit of a rumble edged us higher, the shrieks from other passengers got louder. I couldn’t help but release a few yelps myself. This was getting to be a lot of fun, I reasoned to myself, I should just relax and enjoy the ride. However, my hands were not loosening from the death grip I had on the rail as the coaster geared up for its steep incline; this was it, the big drop. There was no escape, no time for regrets as the coaster leap forward and my whole scenario changed.

The roaring of the coaster was deafening as my body clenched with the sensation of freefall. I couldn’t help but scream along with everyone else aboard but I couldn’t even hear myself. All at once it was over and we hit the down flow before being pulled into the sky again for a lesser incline. The rides remaining thrills and spills were almost mocking us in their lowering frequency at that point for we knew the ride would come to an end in moments. Our fears were realized and then sated as the cars of the coaster pulled in to let us off, the ride had finished. Hurriedly, I jumped out and rushed to quench my burning throat, worn out from all my screams. Luckily, the park had set up open kegs of birch beer with cups all over the place. As I gobbled down the tangy froth, I saw my grandmother waving to me. She beckoned me over to meet her. It was nearing the end of our day and she wanted to take my brother and me on the slow train ride that was like a scenic tour all around the park. It was a calming way to end the day and my kid brother loved it more than I did, since I had proven myself too old for this tamer ride. I felt that park feeling satisfied that I had grown up a bit more that day.
I couldn’t wait to experience more roller coasters, even ones that had 360 degree loop-de-loops; I no longer held fear in my heart.