“I thought we’d never come back from that one.”
I said it calmly, though I felt rather dizzy and disoriented. That was the fifth time in a row I’d ridden Coney Island’s Cyclone. My granddaughter insisted Granny was the only one she would ride with. Flattering, but my age was catching up with me. If my orthopedist could see me now, he’d have me committed. Clearly I was demented.
As the morning had progressed and the heat rose, the ride got wilder and crazier. It slung us through the curves, dips, and dives with ever-increasing intensity. That last time, when I got off, my knees were shaking. Actually, my whole body was shaking. I felt like a sailor back from a long time at sea.
“Once more Gramma?” she said, eyes imploring.
I took a deep breath. And then, I said the words I never thought I’d hear coming from my mouth. “Maybe later. Grandma’s had enough for now.”