As a kid, I could never ignore when I saw one of these coin-operated rides. Some came in the shape of animals, others were construction vehicles. Once in a while, a store would have one customized to look like one of the company vehicles– planting the seeds in kids’ minds : You can work here. Only exact change worked, and it was usually a quarter or 50 cents to ride.
It was such a selfish little ride. To enjoy it, I had to ask my parents for the money, then expect them to wait for me to ride and get off. I didn’t think twice.
It’s wild to be nearly 50 years old, and viewing it as a selfish act after all these years. I nickel and dimed my parents for the shortest and smallest of pleasures– nothing big– just short term experiences that disappear like cotton candy on the tongue, or a communion wafer dissolving into our mouth and into our words for only as long as we taste it. We’re just human.