On Saturday, at their request, we dropped the boys at Six Flags, the extreme roller-coaster park north of Los Angeles.
The photos were all taken by Will. Click on them to enlarge them, if you're not convinced this is one of the scariest places on the planet.
Dace and I didn't actually leave the carpark in case we found ourselves accidentally caught up in and on one of these monsters. 
Could you imagine?
Leaving the carpark, for a sedate lunch in Beverly Hills, we all agreed we'd rather have root-canal work than ride one of those roller-coasters.
In fact, David said he'd rather undergo surgery without anaesthetic.We told Will and Max to ring us when they'd had enough, and we'd pick them up. Almost three hours later, they were smiling, but they also looked pretty green, I thought ...
4 comments:
I generally end up having to go to places like this because the rest of my family need someone to stand at the bottom and hold the bags. They know very well that I won't be getting on a single ride.
I remember Six Flags over Texas. (we need a motion sickness emoticon here) Still feel slightly green. I made a solemn vow on Space Mountain at Disney World that if I got off alive I'd never climb back on a roller coaster and it's one vow I've kept.
PS your other two boys are sweeties.
I would totally, totally dig the rollercoaster from hell. Damn that I missed it!
xmx
Hell does indeed look exactly like that. I'm still recovering from the California Screamin' at Disneyland (which, I'm told, is tame as far as rollercoasters go).
ARRRRRGGGGggggggghhhhhhh.
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