In the 1980s, when the Knoebels family announced they were resurrecting a dead roller coaster from…read moreTexas, a wooden relic called The Rocket, there were skeptics. "Wooden coasters don't rise from the dead," they said. "Once they're gone, they're gone," they said. "Extreme coasters with ever-growing numbers of loops are the future!" But Knoebels, being run by either visionaries or lunatics (or both), instead dug up the corpse, hauled it across the country beam-by-beam, and brought it back to life. They named it The Phoenix, because what else do you call a miracle?
And what a resurrection it was.
The Phoenix is a wooden coaster as God intended. No over-the-shoulder restraints, no plastic prison to hold you down. Just a single, beautiful buzz bar, a safety system designed under the assumption that riders are either thrill-seekers or daredevils, and that both deserve respect. The bar does not staple you to your seat. It merely suggests that you stay. And so, if you are fortunate enough to ride in the back row, and you should ride in the back row, you will experience what can only be described as flight.
The first drop pulls you down like a siren's call, but it is the return trip, the final act of this wooden symphony, where The Phoenix truly earns its legend. The bunny hills do not simply lift you from your seat. They rip you from gravity itself. Your body becomes a loose suggestion, held in place only by momentum and the faint hope that this ancient engineering will continue to defy physics for just a little longer. You will scream. You will laugh. You will ascend.
There are flashier roller coasters in the world. Taller ones. Faster ones. Louder ones. But none of them feel like this. The Phoenix doesn't consistently place in the top three (and often win) the Golden Ticket Award for best wooden coaster because of it's speed or height. It is a coaster built entirely of transcendence.
So if you ever find yourself in Elysburg, PA, among the trees and the laughter and the smell of frying dough, do yourself a favor: go ride The Phoenix.
And for those brief, breathtaking moments when you are no longer touching your seat, remember this: sometimes, dead things do come back. And sometimes, they are better than ever.