I Pitched a Roller Coaster to Disneyland at Age 10 in 1978

Source: Hacker News

In 1978, for my 10th birthday, I went to Disneyland and rode a new roller coaster called Space Mountain. It figuratively and literally took my breath away. I loved every second of it, and that night I couldn’t fall asleep; I kept thinking about how exhilarating it was. Then a wild thought suddenly hit me:

Why isn’t there a roller coaster that goes upside down?

The Spark

At first I thought, “That’s crazy, it can’t work.” But then I remembered Spin Out, the ride with a round room that spun so fast I stuck to the wall. If that worked, why not a loop on a roller coaster? I was convinced!

I finally fell asleep dreaming of my roller coaster—full of twists, turns, and loops.

A few days later I told my best friend Daschle. He was older, knew everything, and lived next door.

“Buddy,” he said, “I’ve got exciting but crushing news. Your idea works.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I saw it. They’re building one at Magic Mountain. It’s called the Revolution. Sorry, Buddy.”

But I wasn’t crushed; I was thrilled! What I knew could work was really happening.

“How many loops does it have?” I asked.

“One.”

“Ha! Mine has four. It’s called the Quadrupuler! It’s gonna be way better!”

That night I taped six sheets of paper together and drew my blueprints in colored markers. As you can see from the photo, it was glorious!

Look closely—I didn’t label those coaster hills in feet or meters, no sir; I used building “stories” for height and the speed at each section in miles per hour. I’m 10. I’m serious here.

Building the Model

With guiding blueprints, it was time to build the model.

I got a Styrofoam board and balsa wood. Cutting and gluing each tiny cross‑tie was slow, and with all my homework I could only work on weekends. So I calculated how many inches I could finish in a week. The answer turned out to be something like 5 months! After that I considered just giving up because I realized I was only 120 months old and this was going to take 5 % of my life! Plus, I still hadn’t figured out how to make the loops—balsa wood doesn’t bend like that. But I told myself:

One piece at a time.

That became my motto.

When I got to the first loop, I had to stop and think. What in the world could I make the loop out of? A lot of 10‑year‑old brain power went into imagining a simple material. Then one morning I had it: heat plastic strips over the stovetop flame and bend them as they cooled. The key? Don’t burn the house down.

I’d learned that the hard way a year earlier, when Daschle convinced me we should recreate the movie The Towering Inferno with a cardboard box under his house… and real fire. It got out of control so fast the flames started hitting the wood floor joists! Thankfully we smothered it with the damp dirt down there. So yeah, wild‑card Daschle was not invited over for my plastic‑bending experiment.

I don’t remember where the plastic came from, but I do remember holding the strip with pliers over the flame. The first piece melted so fast and started burning with thick black smoke that it scared me. I yanked it back, coughed, and made an amendment to the safety plan:

Don’t kill yourself with those horrible smelly fumes!
I got a fan, opened the back door, and all the kitchen windows before trying again. Eventually I figured out the perfect distance and timing with the heat.

Four perfect loops

When I laid that final track piece, I was so excited, so proud! I took the model outside for better lighting and snapped Polaroids—instant capture was essential. Here’s a photo of the Polaroid with my 10‑year‑old penmanship.

The Letter to Disneyland

What was the next thought that immediately popped into my head?

This masterpiece is ready to be sold to Disneyland!

And I wrote my letter. I don’t have the original, but I remember it went something like this:

To whom it may concern:

My name is Kevin Glikmann. I am 10 years old. Enclosed are Polaroids of a roller coaster model I made called the Quadrupuler. It has four loops! I think you should make it!

I sent it off!

Suddenly, checking the mail after school became a heart‑pounding ritual. I was nervous, hopeful, excited. Sometimes I opened the mailbox slowly, peeking in. Other times I yanked it open and grabbed the mail fast, trying anything to calm my nerves.

Daschle said, “No way they’ll respond. It’s Disneyland, Buddy, they get a million letters a day.”

Weeks turned into months, and I started to think he was right. Then one day I opened the mailbox.

An envelope.

My name on it. My head screaming, “This is it! I never get mail!”

In the corner: WED Enterprises.

HOLY SMOKES! What’s WED Enterprises? I started bouncing up and down, shaking. I ran into the house, straight to my room, tore open the envelope, and read:

Dear Kevin:

Your recent letter was directed to my office here at WED Enterprises. WED (Walter Elias Disney) is the design and “Imagineering” branch of Walt Disney Productions. As such, we are responsible for the creation of all shows, attracti…

(The letter continues…)

Disney Letter & Early Inspiration

Thank you for showing us your “Quadrupuler” roller coaster – it looks like quite an adventure! As you may know, Kevin, we are creating a new roller‑coaster‑type attraction for Disneyland’s Frontierland. Known as Big Thunder Mountain Railroad, this thrilling adventure will carry passengers on a high‑speed journey through the gold‑rush days of the old West. Big Thunder is scheduled to open later this year.

Thank you, Kevin, for your interest in Walt Disney Productions.

Sincerely,

Tom Fitzgerald
Concepts & Communications

Original Letter (1979)

You would think that this letter would have ended my inventing spirit, that I would have gotten bitter and declared to the world, “No more will I invent for that mouse or anyone else!”

But no! Instead I was elated. I read it over and over. It said, “It looks like quite an adventure!” Disneyland liked it! I couldn’t believe it.

Looking back, those words from Tom Fitzgerald didn’t just validate my idea; they launched my ten‑year‑old self‑esteem into orbit! (Tom Fitzgerald went on to become one of the most influential Imagineers in Disney history. According to his bio, he started in 1979. I got this letter in April 1979, which means this must have been one of his first tasks as a new Imagineer employee. lol! I wonder if he would remember?)

I never looked back.

The Rubik’s Cube Experiment

A couple of years later, the Rubik’s Cube came out. I was obsessed. It took me weeks to solve, and once I did, my first thought was: What if it could turn on the angle? So I introduced Mr. Rubik’s Cube to my bandsaw, redesigned the core, and built a very rough prototype.

Here are some pictures.

I sent it to Ideal Toy Company, but they rejected it straight away—they don’t accept unsolicited ideas. That didn’t matter. They didn’t understand that I had a letter from Disney Imagineering telling me my ideas are good!

That ten‑year‑old inventor is still alive in me, and still doesn’t understand rejection. Over the decades, I’ve invented several patented board games that were shopped around but never sold.

I’m convinced the early validation from the Disney letter gave me a kind of bullet‑proof resilience.

Today

I now work in one of the most rejection‑heavy industries there is: acting. To me, inventing and acting are deeply connected—both are about discovery, and both feed my inventing spirit. Successes are rare, but when they come, the joy lasts forever.

So I keep auditioning, and I keep inventing.

And sometimes, when frustration creeps in—wondering why I’m not further along or why things aren’t working out—that ten‑year‑old boy appears. He reminds me of what we believed back then and what still guides me now: just keep going, one piece at a time.