Good Morning Gentle Readers,
We took the kids to Knott's Berry Farm on Sunday. I know I'm old and crotchety but times have changed. The primary demographic seems to be tats, obesity, and body piercings. Don't get me wrong, nobody got stabbed, it's just different.
One thing is certain, Cedar Fair doesn't take care of the park the way the Knott family did. Hard to get the flavor of the old west with roller coaster footings planted in boot hill where Lester Moore's marker used to be.
Back in the day, Knott's Berry Farm was free. The hippies put an end to that, hanging around smoking dope and such. First came a fence and a quarter admission charge. That was manageable and it served to keep the riff-raff out. Well, except us, of course.
Hung my head out the window of Bob's 'Vette one hot summer night and offered these purty little blond chicks a ride. They said: sure. Bob missed that part. As he dumped the clutch and left some rubber and rpms behind, I hollered: WTF? Whaddya thinkin', man?
The parking lots were sloping grass hillocks with big billowy trees to shade your ride from the afternoon heat. Now they charge twelve bucks and shuttle you off to the farthest corner of the known universe. Hope you brought your tenny runners (or your Nikes). Long hike. No water.
At the entrance:
Can I see your bag, sir? Well, it's a camera, but I guess.
Modern America, I suppose.
That's Jake and Katie (lower seats) on Montezooma's Revenge, one of my favorite roller coasters. 0-55 mph in two seconds (3 seconds? 4.5 seconds?). That's just my game. Pin you to the back of the seat, ma'am. TWC used to have a murdercycle that'd do close to that. 0-60 in 3.5 seconds as I recall.
Unfortunately, TWC was sidelined with severe pain in his back and shoulder (which is finally beginning to subside after 10 days--I'll take a little cheese with that whine). Thirty five bucks and no rides.
Too bad they don't have fantasy camp for Funny Cars like they do for NASCAR cars. Ain't nothin' I like better than going zero to real got dam fast in a hurry.