A woman stepped gingerly out of the door of the ferris wheel car. It was her fourth time this summer on my ride.

In Gilford, she screamed, begging to get off. I was $50 richer for not stopping, but it freaked me, and some of her fellow riders, out. I got quite a few dirty looks that night. 

In Salem, a couple of weeks later, she had only screamed. Same thing in Manchester.

Tonight, I saw just tear-stained cheeks as she wrapped her hands around her husband's arm to head down the midway. 

"Fear be damned," she whispered. "Almost there."

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