Facing Fears – Lessons From the First Roller Coaster

I’ll admit it—I couldn’t wait to ride the roller coaster at Legoland. As an avid motorcyclist and former super bike racer, I’ve always loved speed, sharp turns, g-forces, and anything else likely to leave a mark on my skin and my soul. So the thought of sharing that thrill with my daughter? I was pumped.

She, on the other hand, was… less pumped.

Fear vs. Fun

When we got in line, she wasn’t bouncing with excitement like I was. She was dragging her feet. Her trepidation turned into tears as we crept closer to the loading platform.

I tried to talk her through it—the fear-over-fun dilemma. I reminded her that sometimes our brains scream “danger!” even when we’re perfectly safe. I promised her she’d be okay. Finally, with all the courage she could muster (and maybe a little pressure from Dad), she stepped onto the ride.

And somehow, we ended up in the front car.

Two Very Different Rides

The ride launched, and my daughter’s face locked into pure terror. She didn’t scream, didn’t laugh—just froze. Meanwhile, I was nine years old again—arms in the air, screaming my head off, soaking up every twist and drop.

When the ride screeched to a halt, she got out without saying a word. We walked in silence toward the next attraction. My stomach sank. Maybe I’d pushed her too far.

And then she looked up at me.

“That was awesome.”

The Breakthrough

Somewhere in that 90-second ride, something shifted. She had been terrified, yes—but she had also conquered it. And once she realized she was still standing, still breathing, and maybe even a little proud of herself, fear gave way to excitement.

Now? She looks for those thrills. Roller coasters, fast rides, new experiences. She’s all in. (Well, except for clowns. We still haven’t cracked that nut.)

Beyond the Ride

What struck me most that day was how close fear and joy live next to each other. In the line, she was crying. On the ride, she was terrified. But walking away, she was exhilarated. That’s the cycle of courage: it feels awful until it’s over—and then it feels amazing.

It also reminded me that kids take their cues from us. If I had been nervous, she would have panicked. Instead, seeing me laugh and holler helped her borrow some of my courage until she could find her own. That’s what leadership looks like in parenting—not eliminating their fear, but modeling calm confidence in the middle of it.

Dad’s Reflection

As dads, it’s a balancing act. Push too hard, and we risk scaring them off. Hold back too much, and they never discover what they’re capable of. That day at Legoland reminded me that courage often grows in the space between fear and fun.

Sometimes, our job is simply to walk with them into that fear, hold the seat bar down, and scream our heads off—until they discover that what once terrified them might just become their favorite thing.

A Challenge for Other Dads

Think about one fear your child has—big or small. Instead of avoiding it, find a safe way to face it together. It might be speaking in front of the class, trying a new sport, or riding that first roller coaster.

Show them that fear doesn’t mean stop. Fear means get ready to grow.

Because raising leaders isn’t about eliminating fear—it’s about teaching our kids to push through it. And sometimes, that starts in the front car of a roller coaster.