Requiem for the Blue Streak and the memories of Conneaut Lake Park

In the Pittsburgh area, we celebrate summertime fun at places like Kennywood and Idlewild.

For those who live an hour or so north of the three rivers — think of them as Yankee Yinzers — there also was Conneaut Lake Park.

It pains me to type the “was” part.

Located about 100 miles north of Pittsburgh — not quite to Erie, but closer — it was a magical place until about 20 years ago.

It was the place where the Northwestern Pennsylvania mills held their company picnics, and where generations of kids enjoyed their first plunge on a roller coaster.

That coaster — the Blue Streak — burned as it was being dismantled Tuesday afternoon.

It was beloved by coaster enthusiasts, and its demise caught me off guard.

I’d watched “Don’t Look Up,” so I was prepared for Sunday’s meteoric boom.

Betty White was 99 and I’d heard many agonize about what might happen when she died before it happened Friday.

But the Blue Streak’s demise was unexpected, although the park, itself, had been on life support for decades.

Going to Conneaut Lake Park is one of those things tucked away in my memory that’s been there since I was 6.

I grew up in the Shenango Valley, and I remember the “are we there yet?” drives there each summer. We started going as guests of our neighbor, who worked at Westinghouse Corp.’s former Sharon Transformer plant and gave us his extra tickets.

The first site of the park was the blue wooden track of the coaster at its turnaround near the road. Seeing it meant we were there.

The lines that make major amusement parks less amusing wasn’t there. Instead, it was a place where large groups of family and friends mingled.

They didn’t charge non-riders to walk around the idyllic area on the banks of Conneaut Lake, so grandparents and older aunts and uncles could tag along and enjoy the homemade doughnuts and other treats along the midway without paying for admission.

As for the Blue Streak, for several years, I was too young or scared to ride it. But I can close my eyes, think of it and remember the clank-clank-clanks of it climbing its initial hill, followed by a pregnant pause, then the sounds of the riders screaming as they plunged along the wooden tracks.

When I finally was able to do so, it thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

It was special.

Not quite Thunderbolt special, but it was a fun ride. And because it was my first coaster, it’s burned into my memories.

I’m grateful we have Kennywood and it’s blend of nostalgia and newness, and its evolution allows it to survive.

For Conneaut Lake Park, it’s been a downhill struggle since I was in shortpants.

The park hardly changed and couldn’t compete with bigger places once the regional mills closed.

People wanted bigger, better, faster thrills beyond the Blue Streak.

But for many, it was a magical place to spend a day.

I’m thankful for the memories.