if the dummies can do it, so could I.

Last Friday afternoon, while Kennywood officials gushed on about the spirited delights of Ghostwood Estate, the new ride that replaced (at a cost of about $2 million) The Gold Rusher, I spied the eight "people" lucky enough to be sitting in the first two cars of the Thunderbolt.

There they were, zooming up and down hills at breakneck speeds, without a single scream, for more than two hours. Then I learned that the "people" were actually water-filled, screw-top dummies taking the Kennywood favorite for a long test run. (The dummies weigh an average of 180 pounds, representing a cross section of actual human weights. Some have hair, a few have smiles, and all are white, not the shade of green I'd expect from roller-coastering for so long.)

As a newbie to town and an amusement park aficionado, having the near-empty 40-acre Pittsburgh landmark to roam through was better than blue cotton candy, three hot dogs, a few funnel cakes and fresh-cut potatoes topped with cheese and bacon wolfed down right before getting on a ride.

I got to ride Ghostwood Estate that day (more about it later), and I made a promise that I would return to Kennywood the following day, the official opening day, and test all the rides myself.

Kennywood's promotion machine encourages one and all to "make a new memory." At my age (51) and my weight (yeah, right) I made memories all right ... and a few boo-boos. Sit down, buckle up and come share the rides with me. And there are no height restrictions!

First stop: The Racer. This handsome wooden coaster, built in 1927 and the only single-track racing coaster in the country, packs a thrill. It boasts a respectful 50-foot drop at about 40 miles per hour, and at one minute and 30 seconds, it's just what I need to get my creaky bones cracking. I ride it twice, once in the front seat and once in the rear ... and, yes, the back is better and bumpier. (One Kennywood factoid I pick up along the way: The differently colored cars are not actually racing; weight distribution determines which color comes in "first.")

My next stop: Cosmic Chaos. The aliens welcoming me to the ride look so cute (one fiddles with a digital camera, one is stuffing his/her face with popcorn), and I get to spin around in an open-air UFO. But I forget my body cannot take spinning in out-of-control circles at speeds of up to 43 miles per hour while 50 feet off the ground. I close my eyes. I silently beg for the ride to end. And it does, one minute and 40 seconds later, but not before I have spent the entire time screaming, praying and listening to the young woman next to me crying out that the centrifugal force made her "left boob fall out!"

Two rides down, 31 more to go. And I am feeling sick, already stopping for a cup of water to ease my nausea.

Aero 360 would have turned me into a human pendulum with a 360-degree over-the-top experience -- I thank God it's closed for maintenance. I spot this black and gold steel tower shooting 251 feet into the air. It's the tallest structure in the park; Kennywood calls it the "Pitt Fall" because riders get to ride all the way to the top then free-fall all the way down to the ground. I call it Sissy Suicide, refuse to ride it and start thinking I should head over to Kiddieland.

Instead, I head over to the Phantom's Revenge. I sit in the pretty purple and teal car. The first car. Alone. It chugs up the metal track ... higher and higher ... until it reaches 160 feet. I see nothing but air -- where's the track? I momentarily convert back to Catholicism, say a Hail Mary, repent for all my wrongdoings. And then Zooooooooom! The coaster flies at 85 mph (even I have never driven that fast), twisting and turning over banked curves and reminding me that under my padding there are ribs. Sore ribs. But it's the second drop that's the killer -- a whopping 230-foot descent that leaves me quivering and queasy. Wow! This gets my highest fear and fun factor, a 10.

What next? I remember how much the dummies loved the Thunderbolt. It's suggested I sit in the last car ... the first one may be scarier (the first plunge is immediate), but the rear gets all the rumblin' and rockin'. Fast? Yes. Fun? Yes. The New York Times dubbed the Thunderbolt "King of the Coasters" (way back in 1974), but it only hits a 7 on my fear factor scale.

By now, my ribs ache. My throat hurts. My head pounds. But I want to make more memories.

Then I get to The Exterminator. It looks so benign from the outside ... but who knows what evil lurks in its depraved heart? The ride sends me on a whirlwind into total darkness. I fight getting sick as I am violently tossed this way and that way with hairpin turns so sharp and so unexpected I felt like, well, a trapped rat.

Other riders leave squealing with delight and returning back to the line. I head straight for the men's room and make a different kind of memory.

I rest. I drink more water. I am refreshed but not rebuffed. Even though it's starting to rain, I decide to try the trio of water rides. I get soaked on the Pittsburg Plunge (its spelling pays homage to the days of yesteryear). The ride lasts about a minute, but oh! what a 50-foot drop! Oh what a splash! (Another Kennywood factoid: The "lake" at ride's end holds 200,000 gallons of water.) Another 10 on the fear and fun factor scale. The Log Jammer is too tame for me; the Raging Rapids less so. I still wonder if the group I rode with ever got dry.

I trot off to Ghostwood Estate. The interactive ride --"guests" shoot at 200 targets and score points while helping Lord Kenneth rid his Addamsesque abode of ghosts -- is a disappointment. It's a slow, unexciting ride that proves mixing a video game with a dark ride doesn't work. Fear factor? 0. Fun factor? 1 ... the same rating as a cold corn dog.

I meander. I listen to the screams at King Kahuna, Pirate, Wipeout, Skycoaster and Volcano. I think that taking a shot on Swingshot -- and plummeting to the earth at 50 miles an hour -- would make me the park's first ride casualty. I look at my water-sodden park map. Two dozen rides to go. I admit defeat. I roam through the park, making note of the "next time" rides.

I end up in Kiddieland. I listen to the laughs coming from the Wacky Wheel, Whippersnapper, Steel City Choppers, Pounce Bounce and Red Baron.

I sit, I watch, I listen. I am tired. I am aching. I am wet. But I am still making memories.