With the waning weeks of summer into fall now upon us, I deliberately waited on doing this post so as not to cause trepidation or dampening spirits for thrill seekers like myself, a veteran rollercoaster rider.

You see all these articles and photos about “dead malls.” These are more or less shelled-out indoor commerce centers left for dead by vacated brick and mortar retailers opting to relocate to strip centers or reimagined “Town Centers” or “Avenues.” Expansive hubs where food vendors, grocers, clothiers, movieplexes and specialty shops create an industrialized open-air marketplace planted inside a bustling office and residential community. In other words, a traditional mall turned inside out. For a Gen X rat like myself, the demise of the mall has been a bitter pill to swallow.

Now we’re not yet in any kind of danger in the death of theme parks. Can anyone possibly fathom the closure of Cedar Park in Sandusky, Ohio, the Mecca of rollercoasters? Hardly. Yet in an economically crunched period like we’re living in, not everyone has the duckets these days to the shell out for day tripping along the steel rails and wooden brackets. Don’t even get me started on the Fast Pass or Lightning Pass. Theme parks are taking it on the chin somewhat lately, though you’d never tell on a weekend, in particular a Father’s Day or Fourth of July.

My love of rollercoasters goes back to my virgin pop in 1982 at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Virginia on the Loch Ness Monster, one of the first American loop coasters along with Hersheypark’s immortal SooperDooperLooper. Granted, I’d been too chicken in 1980 at age 10 to have a go on Hershey’s old school wooden classic, The Comet. Funny to think about that now.

Even for rollercoaster fiends, you can’t deny the subliminal fear of one day possibly meeting your maker at a hundred plus speed. The windier the ride, the more corkscrews you face, the screechier the rails are, the ricketier those train car chains are, it’s hard not to imagine possible death. That’s the bragging rights aspect to it all, surviving the experience and going back for more!

I mean, every coaster addict must make the pilgrimage to Coney Island, New York to face the all-time beast of wooden coasters, the Cyclone. You will find yourself making sure your life insurance premium is paid current before take the plunge and you will come off it hip-bruised and back sore, but that’s the whole daggone point of the thing. When could New York possibly retire the Cyclone as a mere monument? Cringeworthy, but possible. That old man’s been scaring the hell out of riders since 1927!

Retiring a rollercoaster ride is one thing. Often a reputable theme park still operating summer-to-summer strips down and repurposes when deciding a coaster is too dangerous, too much liability or not enough bang for the buck. Other parks going belly-up outright, however….

I’m a horror guy and there are times when even horror can be beautiful and majestic. Such is the case here, where abandoned rollercoasters have been reclaimed by Mother Earth. Neglect becomes gloom becomes fantastical wonderment. It’s damned depressing yet compelling, nonetheless. Perhaps you’ll find the same mysticism in these dead coaster photos.

–Photos by Michelle Johnsen, Shane Thoms and others from the public domain