Carnival Chronicles: The Iconic Enterprise: Not Exactly a Ferris Wheel

Okay, buckle up buttercups, because we're about to take a spin down memory lane – a very fast, occasionally upside-down memory lane, that is. For those of you who don't know me, let me just say: I. Am. A. Carnival. Ride. Junkie. Always have been, always will be. And there's one ride in particular that holds a special, slightly terrifying, yet utterly delightful place in my heart: the magnificent Enterprise.

My first tango with this gentle giant happened way back in the mid-to-late 80s at the Pensacola Interstate Fair. Picture this: a wide-eyed, slightly apprehensive little me, being coaxed onto this behemoth by my brave big sister, Becki. Now, the exact ownership is a bit hazy in my mind – maybe it was the legendary Gooding's Million Dollar Midways, who held the contract back then? What I do remember, vividly, was seeing something on the news about this particular Enterprise being a vintage import from Bremen, Germany, dating all the way back to 1976! How cool is that?

Now, let's be real. The idea of going upside down was…well, let's just say my mama had instilled a healthy fear of projectile vomiting during such maneuvers. But Becki, being the awesome sister she is, wouldn't have me riding on anything she's riding herself if she thought it would send me spiraling into a technicolor yawn, mostly because if I did it, she would also. Still, those playground tales of cars flying off and arms getting stuck at dizzying heights? They definitely planted a seed of "maybe I should just stick to the Ferris wheel." Though, looking back, I'm pretty sure most of those stories were pure, unadulterated kid-fueled fantasy. (Though I'll admit, the occasional real-life accident does give you pause.)

I didn't know what to expect even though I saw it in action many times. But then the ride started. Oh, that sound! That deep, guttural hum of the motor as it began to spin. For anyone who's ever loved an Enterprise, or any of those beautifully engineered Huss rides, that sound alone is iconic. It's the mechanical heartbeat of pure, unadulterated fun. And then, the magic began. A little jolt, a gentle sway, and then the entire arm of the ride started its graceful ascent. Suddenly, we weren't just spinning; we were flying.

The Enterprise. It's one of those rides that elicits a very specific reaction from onlookers: "Nope. Absolutely not. I value the contents of my stomach." I get it! The relentless spinning, the whole upside-down thing… it sounds like a recipe for disaster. But here's the secret: the Enterprise is surprisingly smooth and enjoyable, even for someone like me who's noticing a slight increase in motion sensitivity as the years tick by.

You hop into your individual car, and that's when the first-timers usually have a mini-panic attack: "Where in the Sam Hill is the seatbelt?!" Fear not, my friends! You don't need one. What you do need is that door. Depending on the model, it either slides securely shut or flips down with a reassuring clunk. Some even have a backup chain, just for that extra layer of "you're not going anywhere" security.

Once everyone's locked and loaded, the central wheel starts to turn, slowly at first, then picking up speed. As it does, your car swings outward, and suddenly you're on your side, feeling the g-force gently but firmly pressing you into your seat. And then, the big moment: the arm holding the entire wheel gracefully rises, usually up to a near-vertical 87 degrees (just shy of a full 90). Most rides hang you there, suspended between earth and sky, for what feels like a blissful eternity (though it's usually less than a minute). But oh man, I remember those glorious rides on Gooding's and Reithoffer's Enterprises – they'd keep us spinning vertically for a good minute and a half, maybe even longer! And the legends of those old park models that would go for a full three minutes or more? Pure, unadulterated thrill!

Now, for the real nerds (like me!), let's talk manufacturers. While there were a few players in the Enterprise game, the two titans were undoubtedly Schwarzkopf and Huss. Interestingly, they both rolled out their versions in the same year: 1972, with Schwarzkopf actually being the first to design and build it. Here in the US, when it comes to the traveling Enterprises I've had the pleasure of experiencing, almost all of them have been Huss beauties. I'm talking about the ones owned by Gooding's and Reithoffer, of course, but also the Conklin Shows machine, the Murphy Brothers' ride, and even the one Drew Shows spiffed up and then quickly passed on to Deggellar.

The Schwarzkopf Enterprises? Those were more of a park fixture, at least in my experience. I definitely remember riding one at Six Flags Over Texas, and who could forget the iconic "Wheelie" at Six Flags Over Georgia? The news of its removal and subsequent move to Fun Spot America in Orlando was a sad day for many Atlanta-area thrill-seekers. I've heard so many "Wheelie" fans holding out hope for its return, maybe even to the Fun Spot Atlanta location down in Fayetteville. Fingers crossed! As for other park models, like the ones at King's Island and Six Flags Great Adventure, the manufacturer details are a bit fuzzy in my memory banks.

Sadly, the days of the traveling Enterprise seem to be dwindling a bit here in the States. The cost of keeping these magnificent machines in tip-top shape is no joke, and many have been retired or found new homes in parks or shows overseas. But here's a little tidbit that blew my mind: apparently, owners of the Huss Enterprise models had the option to convert them to run backwards! Can you even imagine? According to a Huss service letter from 1984, North American Parts Inc. offered this conversion. A backwards Enterprise… part of me is dying to try it, and the other part is convinced my aforementioned mama-induced fear of upside-down-induced nausea would kick into overdrive! Wouldn't it be absolutely insane if the cars faced each other, and halfway through the ride, it just stopped and reversed direction? It'd be like a Sky Diver, but without that tempting steering wheel!

So, there you have it – my personal journey with the Enterprise. It's a ride that embodies the thrill and nostalgia of the carnival for me. That unique sound, the anticipation as you rise skyward, the brief moment of weightlessness as you hang upside down… it's pure magic.

What about you? Do you have any Enterprise stories? Any memories of riding one, good or bad (though hopefully more good than bad!)? I'd absolutely love to hear your experiences in the comments below! And hey, while we're reminiscing about these incredible rides and the joy they bring, if you've enjoyed this little trip down memory lane with me and want to help fuel more of these nostalgic deep dives (maybe even contribute to my future carnival adventures!), well, let's just say virtual high-fives and any little tokens of appreciation are always warmly welcomed. Just sayin'! 😉

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Lost Paradise: Tiki Island Pensacola Beach, Where a Lifelong Love of Waterparks Was Born

A full view of the waterslides from the original Pensacola Beach Pier

Okay, let me take you back to a time when waterslides were as mysterious to me as the far side of the moon. It was the first of two summers my parents, bless their working-parent hearts, shipped me off to day camp during their working hours to keep me out of trouble. And that's when I first laid eyes on it: Tiki Island Waterpark, shimmering under the Pensacola Beach sun. There was something so raw and enchanting about the place, like a forgotten beach oasis.

Tiki Island shortly before the tower and slides were demolished.

I remember this quirky mix of attractions – a miniature golf course that looked perpetually closed, a silent rollercoaster hinting at after-dark adventures and a cluster of vibrant carnival rides and go-karts, all patiently waiting for the evening crowds. It always struck me as utterly bizarre that waterparks called it a day in the late afternoon when the sun was still high. Seriously, wouldn't a moonlit waterslide session be epic? Just me? Okay. There was also the classic arcade, buzzing with electronic energy and a snack bar promising the sugary fuel every kid needs. But let's be honest, the real magic lay in those four towering waterslides, beckoning us to conquer their heights one stair at a time.

Now, being smack-dab on the beach, you'd naturally assume you could just hop over the fence for a refreshing dip in the Gulf. Nope. Fenced off tighter than a drum. No in-and-out privileges. Talk about a cruel tease!

The imfamously hot splash pool.

Most of the kids, clutching their inflatable tubes and thin mats like precious treasures, made a beeline for the two twisty slides halfway up the tower. You know the drill – a few exhilarating turns before you were unceremoniously dumped into this ridiculously shallow, maybe three-foot-deep splash pool. It wasn't for lounging, that's for sure. A lifeguard's whistle and screams were your cue to get moving.

But me? Well, me and a few of the other self-proclaimed "badass" older kids (we were probably all of eleven, twelve or thirteen, bless our naive hearts) were drawn to the summit. We climbed those seemingly endless flights of stairs, our anticipation building with each step, all for the thrill of those two colossal, 78-foot freefall slides. Tiki Island, in its wonderfully understated way, had a simple sign pointing upwards: "Speed Slides." Just the name sent a jolt of pure excitement through me.

I'll never forget my first time. The lifeguard, a tanned teenage guy who probably saw hundreds of terrified kids a day, gave me a gentle but firm push. Suddenly, I was plummeting towards the earth. Panic flared. My arms shot up instinctively, grasping for something that wasn't there and my legs, in their infinite wisdom, decided to uncross. Let's just say gravity combined with my rookie mistake resulted in a truly epic wedgie and an…unforgettable…internal experience. But you know what? After surviving that initial plunge, a strange sense of invincibility washed over me. In my young mind, if I could handle that, I could handle anything. To this day, I think of that cute lifeguard and I associate the rush I get everytime I slide down similar slides with him and that gentle push he gave me.

The funny thing is, every single time I climbed those stairs again – and trust me, there were countless ascents – the lifeguard would remind me to cross my arms over my chest. And every single time, the moment I went over the edge, not out of fear anymore but this incredible, rollercoaster-like rush, my arms would instinctively shoot back up. It's a weird little quirk that's stayed with me on every drop slide I've encountered since. Some habits die hard, I guess!

Tiki Island's 78 foot tall Speed Slides

While I did enjoy the slightly tamer twister slides – they were fun in their own way, and the option of a tube or mat was nice – my heart truly belonged to the freefall. But even on the twisty ones, I had my own little rebellious streak. Armed with a mat, I'd "accidentally" roll off mid-slide, my bare back hitting the slick surface. Talk about speed! I'd shoot into that lukewarm splash pool like a human cannonball, leaving the mat-clutching kids far behind. Still, that splash pool was never my happy place. The water always felt a bit tepid, like pee and you were practically ejected the moment you landed. Nope, the real draw, the true motivation for those sweaty climbs, was often competing with a cute older boy named Johnny Joffrion. Following him up that tower for the sheer, unadulterated thrill of those speed slides? That was pure summer magic.

The following year, things took a strange turn. The very top level of the tower was mysteriously off-limits and the legendary speed slides had been…modified. They lowered to maybe around 50 feet, which honestly wasn't bad. It still delivered a decent freefall and surprisingly, more of the younger kids actually braved it at the slightly less intimidating height. But the year after that? Silence. The slides stood still, lifeless. And then, one day, they were gone. The entire tower, the heart of Tiki Island, was demolished, leaving no trace that it had ever existed. It was like a vivid dream that had simply vanished.

Another view of Tiki Island from above, early to mid 80s.

After that first unforgettable summer, the quirky rollercoaster and all those vibrant carnival rides that used to line the front parking lot disappeared, never to return. To this day, a part of me wonders who actually owned those fleeting sources of joy – the "Viking" pirate ship, the Zamperla "Convoy," the Mack Music Express and all the other nameless thrills. Considering they were only there for the summer months, my guess is it was a traveling carnival company, using that sweet spot between spring and fall fair seasons. Maybe it was Link Shows or Nova Expositions, Cumberland Valley Shows or perhaps the show Ed Gregory owned as he was a resident of Pensacola at the time. Though I can't quite remember any of those shows travelling with a "Viking" ship, I'm sure it could have been possible. As for that compact wooden rollercoaster, I have a vague memory of hearing it might have found a new home in Ft. Walton Beach or Destin before eventually meeting its own demise or moving on to another forgotten adventure land.

My friend Jenny Reeves and I still reminisce about Tiki Island and other day camp escapades. But those Wednesday afternoons, conquering those towering slides, those are the memories that really stick. Tiki Island, despite its short lifespan and somewhat limited offerings, ignited a lifelong passion for waterparks in this once-clueless kid. It was a small, slightly strange, utterly thrilling chapter in my childhood and for my eleven and twelve-year-old thrill-seeking self, it was absolutely incredible.

The final year for these slides.

Wow, thinking about Tiki Island brings back such a rush of memories! I'd love to hear if any of you out there remember this little slice of Pensacola Beach history. Did you ever brave the "Speed Slides"? What are your favorite waterpark memories from way back when? Share your stories in the comments below – I'd love to take a trip down memory lane with you! And hey, if you enjoyed this little blast from the past and want to help fuel more nostalgic storytelling (maybe even a quest to uncover the fate of that Viking ship!), well, let's just say virtual high-fives and any little tokens of appreciation are always welcome. You know where to find the "support" button if you're feeling particularly generous! 😉 Thanks for reading!

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Carnival Chronicles: Spinning into Nostalgia on the Himalaya

Hey there, carnival enthusiasts and thrill-seekers! 🎡✨ Today, I want to chat with you about one of my all-time favorite rides – the Himalaya. This ride, known by various names like Musik Express and Super Himalaya, has been a staple at countless fairs and amusement parks, and it holds a special place in my heart.

Let me take you back to my childhood. I first saw the Himalaya when I was around 3 years old at the Greater Gulf State Fair in Mobile, Alabama. Century 21 Shows, owned by Al Kunz, brought this dazzling ride to town, and I remember riding it with my mom and dad. The flashing lights, vibrant colors, and the sounds of the horns, sirens, and music were absolutely mesmerizing. I was also fascinated by how it worked, the way it moved, and how the mirror ball in the center rotated in the opposite direction of the ride. It was the last time my parents rode it, but that memory stayed with me.

Years later, when I was in 3rd or 4th grade, Goodings Million Dollar Midways brought their Reverchon-built Himalaya to the Pensacola Interstate Fair. They also featured a similar ride called the Amor Express, with red lighting, hearts, and a heart-shaped centerpiece that lit up and flashed with the rest of the ride’s lights. It was spectacular!

When Reithoffer took over the midway contract at the Pensacola Interstate Fair, they brought their Himalaya as well as a Mack-built Raupen Bahn. This ride had green and yellow lighting, cars with a caterpillar theme, and a working canopy that enclosed riders halfway through the ride. They also brought the Mack See Sturm Bahn, another Himalaya-type ride with boat-shaped seats that spun and undulated with a cool water feature in the center.

I've always loved the Himalaya and its various iterations, though I'm not a fan of the scaled-down versions by Wisdom. Still, I ride them when I can. Other rides I've enjoyed include Musik Express and Rock & Roll by Amusements of America, Belle City Amusements' Rock & Roll, and the Polar Express owned by Conklin. I've also ridden various Himalaya and Music Express rides from Drew Expo, Cumberland Valley Shows, Peachtree Rides, Royal American Shows, and many others.

So, what exactly is the Himalaya? It's a ride where cars are attached to sweeps radiating from the center. Each car has a wheel underneath that rolls along a track, driven by motors to make the ride revolve. Riders are secured with a simple lap bar, and many today also use seatbelts. The cars travel in a circle, navigating a set of hills. It's more about the atmosphere, with music, lights, and a dance club vibe. Many Himalaya rides feature flashing LED or turbo lights, strobe lights, disco lights, and sometimes laser lights. Fog machines and bubble machines are also popular, and a horn or siren is typically sounded when the ride reaches its highest speed.

There are all kinds of Himalaya rides out there, made by different companies. You’ve got Bertazzon's Musik Express/Super Himalaya and Mack's Musik Express with 20 cars. Then there’s Wisdom's Himalaya/Polar Express with 22 cars—this one's a favorite at most US carnivals because it's cheap to transport and easy to set up and take down. Reverchon’s Himalaya, with 24 cars, is pretty much the gold standard of music rides. For the kids, Venture has a Mini Himalaya with 14 cars. Other makers like Soli, ARM, and SDC also threw their hats in the ring. These rides can be jazzed up with unique artwork, lighting, and designs, so no two look quite the same. Most come with a roof, but some carnivals have given up the roof and travel with models that are open-air.

While doing research for this article, I visited a Tyrone May's website called May's Himalaya Fan Website, which is a treasure trove of detailed photos and information about older Reverchon Himalayas as well as an incredible scratch built model he created. I always find a bit of inspiration when I look at his website. I don't have the patience for scratch building so I have a model that I built from a kit made by Faller. I am looking to buy another Faller Music ride that they created called the Jungle Train and possibly a few kits created by RAH.

Musik Express rides, similar to the original Caterpillar rides of Germany, are built by companies like Bertazzon, Mack, Wisdom, and Reverchon. They feature twenty-ish 3-passenger cars that rotate on a track with sloped and flat sections, powered by 4 DC motors, and can reach speeds of up to 12 rpm. Riders are restrained by a single solid lap bar, and the ride is manually operated, with music and lights controlled by the operator.

Some rides, more common in Europe, even have a canopy that can cover the ride while in operation, adding to the old caterpillar ride nostalgia.

Join the Ride! I hope you enjoyed this whirlwind tour of the Himalaya ride. Share your own memories and experiences with this iconic ride in the comments below. Let's keep the conversation going!
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Carnival Chronicles: The Thrills and Memories of the Gravitron: A Ride into Nostalgia

Gravitron with the classic Thriller sign, source unknown.

After sharing stories about some of my carnival ride memories like the Skywheel and the Hi-Roller, I was delighted by the flood of nostalgic responses from friends and readers. These tales sparked so many fond memories, and I realized there's lots of rides that deserve their own spotlight and the one that comes up a lot in conversation is the Gravitron.

The Gravitron, a signature attraction that has graced carnivals and fairs across the world, stands out as a captivating marvel of engineering and entertainment. Built by Wisdom Industries Ltd., a renowned manufacturer of amusement rides, the Gravitron has etched itself into the hearts of thrill-seekers for decades. It can be found in countries around the world and was first manufactured by Wisdom USA in 1983. Since its debut, it has become their number one seller. In the 1980s, several units were also made under license by ARM in the UK and Ferrari in Australia. Nowadays, you can find this ride with names like Alien Abduction, Starship 2000, Starship 3000 and many other UFO related names but for myself, no matter the theme, I'll always refer to it as the Gravitron.

The ride operates on a simple yet thrilling principle: centrifugal force. The Gravitron generates a force of 4 Gs, pushing the boundaries of safe amusement ride physics. While it wasn’t the first ride to use centrifugal force—preceded by rides like the Chance Rotor and Hrubetz Round-Up—the Gravitron has certainly made its mark in the amusement world.

I remember seeing the Gravitron a few years before I finally mustered the courage to ride it. Its appearance—a futuristic spaceship spinning at dizzying speeds—was both fascinating and intimidating. The ride's enclosure, with a single entry and exit door that sealed shut before the ride began, only heightened my apprehension. As someone who was always wary of the unknown, the Gravitron seemed like an impenetrable fortress of thrills, especially when you hear random screams from it over the loud music blasting from the ride.

Once the automated door closes, the excitement begins. Riders barely realize they’re in motion, as everything around them moves in unison. The Gravitron rapidly accelerates to its top speed of 24 rpm in less than 20 seconds, powered by a 33kW 3-phase motor. At this speed, the 45 panels that riders lean against are supposed to rise upwards, leaving them stuck to the wall with their feet off the ground. Sometimes not all of the panels rise, depending on the age and upkeep of the ride, and it adds to the fun when you see the person that doesn't rise up—not that it's their fault, it's just one of those luck-of-the-draw things. Regular riders often find themselves turning sideways or even upside down as the ride gains speed. There have been some that can actually walk on the walls, though most carnival companies don't really allow it or aren't supposed to. The forces felt on the Gravitron are similar to those experienced by NASA astronauts during rocket launches and space travel simulations. However, the recommended ride time is supposed to be capped at around a minute and a half to ensure a safe and enjoyable experience.

When I was in the 6th grade, my sister persuaded me to ride the Gravitron at the Pensacola Interstate Fair. Accompanied by her best friend Marcy and Marcy's soon-to-be husband, we ventured into the fairgrounds with the lingering taste of pizza from our car ride over. Despite my fears, the experience turned out to be exhilarating. The enclosed design prevented any visual disorientation from the spinning, and instead, I found myself immersed in the videos playing on the TV screens in the center and the blaring rock music that filled the chamber.

The intensity of the G-forces varies based on body weight, with most adults finding the pressure on their chest and face a bit uncomfortable. They often breathe a sigh of relief when the ride comes to a stop. On the other hand, kids and teenagers are thrilled by the experience, eagerly recounting the number of times they’ve ridden it and how fantastic it was. The sight of someone lying against the wall sideways or upside down, or even the one not rising up, is always a memorable one.

Gooding's Million Dollar Midways Gravitron

A few days later, my mama’s co-workers from Hackbarth Delivery Service organized a company outing to the fair, and I tagged along. Armed with unlimited ride handstamp, G for Goodings, back in the day when most carnivals used stamps instead of wristbands, we headed towards the Gravitron by the front gate. That year, there were two Gravitrons at the fair—a rare sight today but not uncommon in the 1970s to early 1990s when carnival companies often showcased multiple units of popular rides.

I rode the first Gravitron three times in succession before rejoining my mama’s group. Upon discovering the second Gravitron, I eagerly boarded it as well. This one, a different color from the silver Gravitron near the gate, seemed to offer a slightly longer ride, thanks to the operator’s discretion most likely. The music selection, alternating between Whitesnake's self-titled album and Heart's "Bad Animals," enhanced the experience even more. Both are still within my favorite albums of all time.

Inside the Gravitron, there’s a central circular control booth with a futuristic swiveling chair situated over the center axis of the ship. This section is reserved for the operator, who rotates with the ride but is safe from any G-forces due to their position at the center. The booth is typically surrounded by flashing lights and disco lights, creating an exciting ride atmosphere.

Throughout the night, I rode both Gravitrons at least seven times each, relishing the unique energy each provided. While my mother opted out of the Gravitron, she did join me on the Skywheel, also known as the double Ferris wheel, and the Amor Express—my favorite version of the Himalaya/Music Express rides.

The Gravitron can accommodate up to 45 people at once, and the ease of loading and unloading (simply by walking in) gives it a theoretical capacity of 1,000 people per hour. The entire ride can be racked on a single trailer, making it one of the most efficient and portable amusement rides ever produced in terms of portability and rider capacity. Setting up the Gravitron takes about six hours, and an experienced crew can tear it down in just three. This efficiency, combined with its thrilling experience, has solidified the Gravitron’s place as a beloved attraction at carnivals and fairs worldwide.

Over the years, I’ve experienced Gravitrons operated by various carnival companies, including Cumberland Valley Shows, Reithoffer, Conklin, and Royal American Shows. Each had its own charm, yet the essence of the ride remained consistent—an enthralling blend of speed, music, and centripetal force. My last ride on a Gravitron was the last year Pugh Shows played the Shrine Circus in Marietta, Georgia, with Terry. The ride experience most definitely felt different as an adult, and my body said, "Thanks for the effort, but let's keep this one in the vivid memories of my youth."

Today’s Gravitrons continue to captivate new generations of riders, although the frequency of seeing multiple units at a single event has diminished due to increased costs and logistical complexities. While some safety features have been added to the ride over the years, for the most part, while the theming has changed a bit, the user experience, the core design and excitement remain unchanged.

The Gravitron will always hold a special place in my heart, symbolizing the transition from fear to exhilaration and the enduring joy of carnival rides. While I may leave the high-speed spins to the younger crowd now, the memories of my Gravitron adventures will forever be a great part of my thrill-seeking years.

Do you have any Gravitron stories of your own? I'd love to hear about your experiences in the comments. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support my storytelling journey, any small token of appreciation is always welcome. Let's keep the nostalgia and excitement of these rides alive together!

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Riding the Sky Wheel: Revisited

I wrote this entry many years ago and decided to revisit it, add a little bit more insight as well as throw a couple of new experiences into the article.

A well-known fact about me: I am terrified of heights. Another well-known fact: I love carnivals. And, perhaps the most surprising fact: my favorite ride of all time is the Sky Wheel, better known to the general public as the Double Ferris Wheel.

My first memory of the ride dates back to the late '70s when Century 21 Shows booked the massive Space Wheels owned by Royal American Shows to play at the Greater Gulf State Fair in Mobile, AL. The Space Wheels are two Sky Wheel units sharing a center support. That was the only time I saw and rode the Space Wheels, until 40 years later when Drew Expo brought it back out, newly refurbished at the North Georgia State Fair. Though it was slowed down quite a lot, it was still great to be able to see it and ride it again. After that, the Sky Wheel became a regular staple on the midways of fairs in Mobile and Pensacola until the mid-1990s. Due to the size and the rising costs and difficulty of obtaining replacement parts, many shows have opted to retire the ride.

Having seen the Sky Wheel at every fair I attended as a kid, I feel let down when I visit a large fair without one. A few midway operators understand the appeal of the ride among enthusiasts and have taken the initiative to refurbish some of the older wheels and bring them back out. There are currently about 10 Sky Wheels on the road, and 4 have made it to Georgia fairs that I've attended over the past 10 years.

What's so great about the ride? You might say it's just a ferris wheel. Think again. It's actually a thrill ride disguised as a gentle giant. If you're lucky enough to sit in the "over the top" seat on either end of the wheel, you will experience an elevator drop that tips your seat so you're facing the sky from the top until you make it to the bottom of the rotation. And before you know it, you're back at the top, doing it all over again.

The ride has been manufactured by three companies: it began with the Valare Brothers before the rights were acquired by the Allan Herschell company, and then Chance Rides after they purchased the assets of Allan Herschell, continuing to build these giants of the midway until the early 1980s. It stands just short of 80 feet, usually dwarfing the rest of the midway. With 8 seats on each wheel, its capacity is 48 adults per ride cycle. Check out the video link of my 2011 Sky Wheel on-ride experience to get an idea of what it's really like. If you ever find yourself on a midway with one of these guys, be sure to check it out for yourself and you'll understand why it's known as "The King of the Midway."

The Hi-Roller: A Carnival Ride from My Nightmares

Y'all know I love me some carnival rides. So, take a look at this photo for a hot minute before proceeding to read my blog. Have you ever seen one of these in action? Did you ride it? Well, I did, and the first time was enough to be the last time for me.

Side By Side, Ring of Fire & Hi Roller

I used to love the Super Loops aka Mega Loop aka Ring of Fire, built by Larson International, before my body began to tell me I am not built for multiple inversions within a short period of time. I loved the upside-down action back in the day. THIS ride, however, looks like someone took the idea of the Super Loops, squished it down to an oval then combined it with parts used to build various kiddie rides, creating the most nightmarish ride I have ever ridden in my life.

The Hi-Roller aka Crazy Train, manufactured by Larson International, began to pop up on carnival midways in the mid-1990s despite its low capacity. The ride consists of an oval track mounted onto a frame. Riding along the track are five triangular-shaped cars that hold four people each, and you definitely do not want to be in the car with someone who may suffer from any sort of motion sickness. Most of the early versions were themed Hi-Roller, featuring graphics of poker cards, slots, and other casino-related visuals. The 90s brought in the casino themes with rides like the redesigned Trabant, which Chance Rides renamed Wipeout. For anyone who's ridden this ride, you would agree that Hi-Roller is a fitting name, allowing a casino theme as well as a description of the ride experience.

Riders enter one of the five, four-person cars, sitting, facing the car in front of them. If they are claustrophobic, they better speak up before the operator locks them in because once it starts, there's no turning back... then again, they will be turning back and in every other direction. The only comfortable thing about this ride is the padded lap bar. When the ride begins to move, you think it's going to be tame because the train starts to slowly trod around the track. However, the second the whole structure begins to spin, all hell breaks loose, and you are banging into the person next to you and they into you for the duration of the ride.

One of the best parts of the ride, if you are not opposed to the nature of the movements, is the fact that you can see the reactions of the riders in front of you unless the plexiglass window is caked with dried vomit. As you round the bend in the turns, you will be quite close to each other, adding to the chaotic experience. Did I mention that the cars flip open when the operator lets you out? Just imagine a power outage or the ride breaking down while the cars are in the turn, trapping the riders until they either winch the train to the straight position or the ride starts back up. There's not much ventilation, so it gets hot, and if someone was sick on the ride, you might catch a few whiffs of whatever they left behind.

Have you ever ridden the Hi-Roller? If so, what are your thoughts? My takeaway from the one time I rode this ride was that it’s similar to the time my sister convinced me to get into a clothes dryer, then closed the door and turned it on. Just awful.