Pat and I went to Silverwood Theme Park near Hayden Lake, Idaho, Sunday with our son Teddy, his wife Sabrina and her sister Crystal. I was encouraged to be a kid again by the kids and the atmosphere.

The wave pool was fine, bouncing, bobbing and weaving. Even the long water slide with 4- to 6-person innertube-like thingies was okay. But I think this was my last time for Tremors.

I was not planning to ride the giant, speeding roller coaster. I would have been perfectly happy to sit with Pat and our grandson Ray.

Then the kids started in.

"C'mon, Dad, do Tremors with us."

"C'mon, Dad, you can do it."

"C'mon, Dad, you're not old."

That's the challenge that gets me every time. I really don't want to admit I'm old. That's why I still play golf, hoping for that occasional shot from yesteryear.

I have to admit I started to want to ride immediately, but the smart portion of my brain - the smaller one - kept saying no. I sat down with everyone for some ice cream.

Then I started thinking about that roller coaster as it whizzed by and around us. It sure looked like fun. I remembered it being fun in Atlanta and Tampa 1,000 years ago.

When the kids asked again, I suggested I should not leave Pat alone again with the baby.

"I'll be fine," she said.

Darn.

So I got in line with a couple hundred people - nearly all kids - and had a good half hour of anticipation

Will I hold my ice cream?

Will I fall out on one of the turns?

Soon a woman in her 60s got in line. Okay, I can do this.

Then the 10-year-old next to me started telling his parents the first climb appeared to have no end. I started to agree, and his parents put their index fingers to their lips to indicate silence.

Then I looked to the top of the climb, and there was a sign that said: "Absolutely do not stand?"

What? They're not going to strap me in?

As we neared loading, Teddy asked if I wanted the front seat.

No way. We lined up for the last seat.

Shortly the train arrived from the previous run. A man nearing 70 was seated right where I was going to sit. He was fine. His grandkid was shaken. Okay, I can do this.

So I got on. The next minute went by in a flash. What I remember the most is two sharp turns to the right that seem to have put some bones back in order.

About 10 minutes later, Teddy says: "Now, let's do Aftershock."

I thought about it. Then I took another look at that twin tower of terror and a picture of me on Tremors and decided Pat needed my help.