Out To Launch Giant Rubber Band Ride Sends People Soaring

The sign called it the Astro Rocket Launch. But just watch someone hop onto the thing and get bungee-jettisoned to Jupiter.

It looks more like the Astro Lunch Launch.

Still, that didn’t stop folks from clamoring to the ride on Sunday, marking its first Labor Day weekend in business on Seltice Way, sandwiched between a Go Kart center and a horse field.

But before one man from Fairchild Air Force Base tried the Launch, he had to mull the decision over. Since he gets paid to fix things that fly, he wasn’t about to ride a 60-mph rubber band without a complete diagnostic.

Jim McGrady watched videos of others paying $25 to become human yo-yos. He gave the seat and straps a close inspection. Then he just plain stalled.

This continued for about a half-hour. Finally, someone else went, and McGrady had no choice but to aim high.

The attendant strapped him to a bench inside what looked like a giant gyroscope strung between two radio towers. A space-shuttle-style arm held it down against the tension of twin bungee cords.

“Clear,” said the attendant.

The arm let go, the gyroscope rocketed 150 feet in two seconds, then bobbed up and down with the slack - all with McGrady tumbling head-over-feet in his seat.

“Whooooooo-hoo-hoo!” the 23-year-old warbled. “I love this! This is beautiful, man!”

Finally lowered and let loose, he wasn’t even wobbly. “It’s crazy,” he said. But he claimed it didn’t make him sick at all. “I highly recommend it to anyone.”

And all that indecision? “I came to peace with myself once they strapped me in.”

It sure looks bad, though. A gang of grade-schoolers migrating from the nearby Go Kart Family Fun Center stood at the tower’s base and gawked.

“What if you went up upside down?” asked one. “I’d be freaky.”

“I’ll never do that,” said another.

“I will. When I’m 18.”

But riders don’t have to be 18, owner Bev Anastasia said. “We’ve had riders from 6 to 66.” The ride has been in business since late June.

It isn’t for everyone, though. A sign warns those who are pregnant not to ride. That also goes for anyone with back problems, neck problems, heart problems, previously-broken bones, a recent illness or any other medical problems.

The remaining 12 of us are free to give it a try.

Two people in their 20s apparently fit the bill. The gaggle of kids watched. So did a man holding a poodle. The poodle couldn’t take it and turned away.

“Clear.”

“AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” Wendy Keefe screamed. The kids on the ground cackled.

The bench flew up, came down again, and shot back up upside-down. Keefe’s hair was straight out and in a point, like one of those gnomes found on the dashboards of Ford Pintos. Gravity becomes four times that of normal, Anastasia said.

She got the idea to open the ride last summer, while working for a friend who opened up an Astro Rocket in the Midwest. “I decided I wanted one.”

Anastasia’s daughter lives in Longview, Wash., so she moved to Idaho from Kansas City. Her husband died three years ago from Alzheimer’s disease, and she needed to move on. She spent a decade caring for him, so long ago that returning to work as a dental hygienist would have meant a lot of retraining.

And besides, there are plenty of hygienists, but only 17 Astro Rockets in the country.

“I enjoy people coming off the ride with the biggest smile on their faces. They don’t want to miss anything in life. They want it all.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo