Remembering the Scariest Roller Coaster Rides We've Ever Been On

Image via Getty

“I do love the hell out of roller coasters, though they were always deeply disorienting as a kid, because I have terrible vision and had to take my glasses off to ride them. So I'd never see what was coming, and everything was just a windy, colorful blur. But the scariest roller coaster for me was one of the first — my mom took me on the Cyclone at Coney Island when I was maybe 10 or 11. She grew up in this big Brooklyn family, and it was kind of a rite of passage. Other kids got Bar Mitzvahs, we had to ride the Cyclone, preferably after two hot dogs at Nathan's, just to create the possibility of losing your lunch in the process. The whole thing is so rickety and broke-down sounding, and back in the mid-90s Coney Island was still reaaaallly seedy, and I swear I remember the ride operators drinking Bud Light tallboys. And you have to wait on line with the woodwork buckling and the cars roaring overhead.

Then, my mom started telling me about people who had died on it because they stood up and got decapitated. I still have no idea if she was making that up, but I was terrified. Then as we went down the first hill I realized my mom was screaming louder than anyone else on the thing. But it was a blast. When you get back into the station the operators pretend they're gonna send you around again. Now I think that costs another $12 or something. Anyway, the best way to ride a roller coaster is to find the oldest one still in operation, and then have your parent relate grisly tales of dismemberment while you wait to get on.” — Miles Klee, Contributing Writer at MEL magazine 

“The Coney Island Cyclone. I was, what, 25, maybe? The thing about that coaster is, it's not modern, it's missing all the bells and whistles, and that's why it's scary. You get off and you have whiplash and splinters in your hand and you're pretty sure you're lucky to be alive.” — Jennifer Rossa, freelance writer

“ I think, probably on [my] virginal voyage to Six Flags, I was talked through all the big coasters by my loving parents. They didn't want me to pee my pants on the scariest rides, but they also wanted to help me get out there and live life, within reason. We waited in line for the Ninja, and I was sooooo scared. It looked very intense. I was near tears getting ON the ride, and when it was over, my parents were immediately in my business. ‘Darling, are you alright? We love you. You don't have to do it again. Come here.’ And I looked at them all crazy-eyed without moving from my seat, and I was like, ‘No. I'm riding again. This rules.’” — Abby Carney, freelance writer and editor at Edible Queens

“My scariest experience was being stuck in the front seat of the old Colossus at Magic Mountain (which was one of the world's biggest wooden coasters until they replaced it in 2014) for about 45 minutes at a damn near 90-degree angle due to some mechanical issue. They let us ride it twice in a row once it was fixed, but I remember not wanting either of my two rides to happen at that point.” — Tamara Palmer, freelance writer 

“I didn't go on my first roller coaster until I was 31. As a sufferer of chronic anxiety, I was always terrified and avoided them at all costs. It wasn't until a trip to Disneyland with my husband and another friend that I finally worked up the courage to go on Space Mountain. After seeing a bunch of six year olds lined up I figured if they could ride it, so could I. I did however require half a milligram of Klonopin and watching a Youtube video of the coaster with the lights on (since it's a completely dark ride) to convince me. I had heart palpitations at first while in line but after 45 minutes the meds finally kicked in. It was probably the best decision I made all day. I couldn't believe that I enjoyed it. And even went on it again.” — Jessica Gentile, editor at CBS Interactive

“When I was 13, I spent a summer haunting Six Flags with my best friend. We lived nearby and had season passes; our parents dropped us off and picked us up. That summer, we rode everything. Two, three, ten times each in a day when it was cloudy or cool, the crowds kept away by the weather. My favorite was the simplest: The Tidal Wave. Imagine a giant U with a loop in the center. The string of coaster cars would whip through, dropping first from one peak then the other.

When the attendant let me through, I'd race for the last car, and when the workers came to check that the metal safety bar was snug across me (that was the only thing holding you in -- a metal bar that clicked into place just above your hips), I would arch my spine and puff my abdomen against it, giving the illusion of security but leaving myself a few inches of gap when I relaxed. When the cars got going and momentum pushed them all the way up the backwards straightaway, I would grip that bar with my hands and stand up in the car.

At the ride's peak, at its greatest height, I stood parallel to the ground, and there was this hesitation before we went careening back down into the loop, and I just hovered, staring at the tracks below. I loved it. I'd been afraid of roller coasters the summer before, but there I was making the thrill and the risk greater. I'm 42 now and grateful I didn't die. I don't ride roller coasters anymore.” — Angela Denk, freelance writer 

“In Orlando at Disney World, you can go on the Aerosmith-themed Roller Coaster, which already is a bad start, let's be real. You get on this thing and before it takes off, you get to watch these animatronic members of Aerosmith — Steven Tyler and the rest of the people in Aerosmith in the recording studio — and it gave me total uncanny valley as a kid. I thought they were very creepy, these robotic members of Aerosmith being like ‘Hey, yeah, lay down the track,’ ‘Wow, that's bangin'.” — Luke Winkie, freelance writer