We were at Epcot for the day. The weather was pitch perfect, the boys well-behaved and we were having a marvelous time. Mad Dog insisted one of our first stops was Epcot’s Test Track. I remember Test Track from a past trip and let’s just say, I’m not a fan. Mad Dog and I had taken Full Speed along with my nieces and brother-in-law about two years ago. Here is the photo of me completely relaxed and enjoying the ride:
Fast forward two years and now Mad Dog wants to take both my boys. Was he serious? Yep. He instructed me to go sit at the exit by the gift shop (of course the exit is by a gift shop). I did so and ordered my mind not to think about how frightening I found the ride as a grown adult. I ignored the instinct to grab my three year old T.Puzzle and run for the hills. I sat quietly and I waited.
That’s when it began. The mind-numbing roar of the test cars on the track overhead. Each sounded like a freight train colliding with a Mack truck. Oh, and then there were the piteous screams of the helpless passengers spilling over and making me feel very, very nauseous.
Okay. I can do this. I can pretend to be a rational Mommy and wait patiently.
By this time my anxiety had reached full throttle. My stomach was in knots. A kid next to me joked that it was taking so long for his older brother to emerge because someone must have been flung from a car.
At that point I almost lost it.
Another fifteen minutes passed and keep in mind, my boys supposedly had fast passes to this ride. I think I aged about thirty years as I waited for their ride to be over.
Finally, I saw them.
They were perfectly fine. T.Puzzle cried a little at the end (the scariest portion), insisted he would not be riding it again and was quite proud of himself. I pretended to be all calm and collected. I congratulated him and let him have him his moment.
Looks like my boy is growing up. Unfortunately, this feels a whole lot scarier to me than any ride in the world.