Short story shorter: Six Flags Over Georgia says goodbye to the Georgia Cyclone rollercoaster, after 27 years of operation
Ultimately, it’s just a rollercoaster, but as many of my non-existent readers know I’m just reluctant to change.
Anyway, I do have fond memories of the Georgia Cyclone, because it was the first roller coaster I rode in my first-ever trip to Six Flags Over Georgia. This was long before the Batman ride, even longer before Goliath, before amusement parks all across the country weren’t in this perpetual rat race to see who could churn out the tallest, fastest, scariest and/or most grandiose rides, to attract would-be riders to stand in 60 minute-long lines just for 60 seconds of thrill.
What made the Georgia Cyclone unique in the ever-escalating world of rollercoasters was its old-school wooden construction that was loud, noisy, rickety and legitimately beat the shit out of you when you rode it. Sure, it is of the most paramount importance that rollercoasters be safe for riders, but a part of the appeal of the Georgia Cyclone was the illusion of danger that the ride instilled in riders, because it always sounded like it was two loose nuts and bolts away from coming apart and spilling riders to their death, and failing that, the dated wooden structure rattled, and the aged rails whipped and banked hard and was more than just the thrill of speed and wind in your face.
I can’t say that I’ve ridden the Georgia Cyclone as recently as the nearly the entire last decade, but I can say that I’ve ridden it in every time I’ve ever gone to Six Flags. Where most people always rushed to get onto Goliath and Batman, I always appreciated that the age and reputation of the Georgia Cyclone always made it an easily accessible and as well as physically reminding of what rollercoasters were capable of doing.
Who knows if it will be replaced with something modern and high-tech, or if it will be kind of refurbished and a glorified re-skin of the old ride. But for what it’s worth, the Georgia Cyclone provided a quarter of a century’s worth of hard riding, fear of god and brutal physical enjoyment at one of Georgia’s only tourist attractions, and it’s off to the great big rollercoaster heaven in the scrap heap now. Thanks for the memories and popping of spinal joints.
