In a thrilling development for parents who thought they were going to get a funnel cake and maybe a sunburn this weekend, Six Flags Great Adventure in Jackson Township, New Jersey, has debuted its newest “please scream until your organs realign” attraction: The Flash: Vertical Velocity.
Yes, vertical. Because horizontal movement is for people with trust issues and bad knees.
A Skyline Desperate in Need of More Red and Yellow
Located behind the Cyborg ride—which, if you’re not familiar, is the attraction you pass while wondering whether your child is tall enough to ruin their equilibrium—the new coaster is meant to fill a particular void. Namely, the massive, Kingda-Ka-shaped hole left in the skyline after the former record-breaking ride mysteriously vanished into roller coaster Valhalla.
But let’s not call The Flash: Vertical Velocity a “replacement.” That would imply it’s trying to live up to its predecessor, which would be unfair and, more importantly, inaccurate. Instead, it’s an entirely different beast—a newer, shinier, suspiciously patriotic-looking—with red and yellow steel so bright it may qualify as an unofficial sun in the tri-state area.
Yes, this is a coaster so bold, so vivid, so aggressively visible from outer space that astronauts on the ISS are reportedly now slightly more entertained.
The Queue: A Meditation on Emptiness
As is traditional with theme park attractions, the queue line provides a unique opportunity to reflect on one’s life choices, contemplate the vastness of time, and consider just how long a teenager can complain about phone reception. The indoor portion of the line is, shall we say, minimalist—likely designed by someone who wanted to explore the artistic depth of drywall and patience.
But fear not: Six Flags assures us that decorative elements may eventually arrive. Possibly, when the coaster achieves sentience and demands a more stimulating work environment.
A Launch Sequence Straight Out of a Cartoon Prank
Once seated—which, for taller riders, is surprisingly not akin to entering a medieval punishment device—you’ll notice something strange: legroom. Yes, in a move that feels almost uncharacteristically generous, the seats are comfortable. There’s padding. Some restraints don’t immediately test the structural limits of your ribcage. It’s like Six Flags accidentally installed the amenities from a Scandinavian business-class lounge.
But don’t let the comfort lull you into a false sense of security.
The ride begins with a small push forward. A gentle nudge. A “hey, this won’t be so ba—OH MY LORD WHAT IS HAPPENING.” That’s when the real launch begins, backwards, naturally, because nothing says “fun” like catapulting away from your intended destination while questioning your life insurance coverage. And then you’re slingshot forward with the full force of a caffeine-fueled toddler being told it’s time for bed.
The vertical spike—the roller coaster equivalent of standing on your tiptoes during a fire drill—is powerful. You’ll hit that glorious moment of weightlessness, also known as “airtime,” and realize that gravity is, at best, a polite suggestion. The ride doesn’t just go up and down; it twirls, inverts, and offers multiple opportunities to lose your dignity and any unsecured personal belongings.
And then it does it all again. Backwards. Faster.
Because what’s better than a stomach-turning, physics-defying roller coaster ride? Experiencing the same thing in reverse, just in case you missed a moment of existential dread the first time.
Seating Strategy: Choose Your Level of Regret
Should you sit in the front or the back? Life is full of hard choices, and this one is right up there with “Do I let my child have cotton candy before or after the ride?”
The front is your friend if you want a smoother ride with a side of visibility. If you want to feel like you’re in a human centrifuge designed by someone with unresolved childhood trauma, head to the back.
Pro tip: If you enjoy the feeling of your internal organs temporarily trading places, the rear seats offer just the right blend of chaos and regret.
Logistical Joys, or Why You’ll Be Waiting a While
There’s only one train running at a time. Yes, one. Like a moody cat who refuses to do anything until it feels like it, this coaster takes its sweet time. With limited seating per cycle, the line does tend to move with the urgency of a sloth in line at the DMV.
Our expert advice? Go early—like before the park opens. Consider sleeping in the parking lot. Bring provisions. You’ll thank us later.
The Verdict, Not That You Asked
So, what is The Flash: Vertical Velocity?
It’s a colorful, mildly terrifying, wonderfully uncomfortable experience wrapped in the vague illusion of superhero branding. It’s also a ride that terrifies
both teens who insist they’re not scared and their parents trying to prove they’re still cool (spoiler: they’re not).
But this one genuinely earns its place in a theme park world full of been-there-done-that loops and spins, not as a Kingda Ka successor, but as its flavor of stomach-flipping nonsense.
Bring the kids. Bring a change of clothes. And maybe leave the nachos for after the ride.