The restraining weight of the hefty safety harness confirms that I have reached the first ride of the day and I wonder why I didn't escape the terrorising wrath of the Buzzsaw coaster when I could. It had welcomed us malevolently to Dreamworld, looking as if its dimensions shouldn't be physically possible. A looming 15-storey height and a square-ish track complete with a full corkscrew at its peak.
Thud of locks. White-knuckled grip.
We are hurled up the vertical track and momentarily left hanging upside down before cascading 360-degrees and looping down to the beginning only to pass through our starting place and continue on. I catch a glimpse of my father beside me as he shouts a profanity, an act far removed from the cool and collected attitude he maintained while queuing.