If the mass (m.) of 1 cart in an indoor Himalayan ride containing 2 lovers is approximately 350 pounds of happy weight and traveling at the velocity (v.) of the kind of life that comes with dual expendable income and no kids – and those lovers sit as close to the center of the ride as they were from almost coming out the other side of a global pandemic unscathed (the radius (r.)), what is the centripetal force (Fc)? For how long will the force keep their bodies tangled together at the cushiony inward point?
Now, say the nameless and faceless ride operator yanks the lever into reverse at a nauseating halt. How fast does the centrifugal force (F.) send them flailing into the sharp metal bars on the false exit doors opposite them? At which point is the moment of inertia (I.): when the change of direction occurs, or everything that follows?
Please remember to weigh the following external factors when calculating your equation:
How many other people are on this ride and what is their total weight? Does each cart carry that weight respectively, or collectively as a whole?
Using the formula for momentum (p.), explain how the ride is able to maintain top speed as a steadfast, dizzying orbital center, even after the ride is over. Is it because the lovers caught a drift off the coattails of whoever is in front of them? Or is it the other way around? Who’s spearheading this backdraft of love and loss and grief?
Were the seat buckles, as suspected, a false sense of security all this time? And why don’t these exit doors open?
Is it blinding dark in there, save for the strobe lights that shadow the lovers’ facial angles glitchy and unrecognizable, a foreboding guised as fun? Is this fun?
Explain why centripetal force is real and centrifugal force is fake, and how the lovers can’t distinguish the difference.
© 2021 Andrea Festa