A small sticker on the ride’s control panel, dated and initialed by an inspector most riders never consider, can be seen if you stand close to the exit gate of nearly every state fair in July. However, the meaning of that sticker varies depending on the state in which you are. Texas has its own program for inspections. There’s another in Ohio. Florida is infamous for allowing parks that are big enough to self-certify. For an industry that relies on identical machines traveling across state lines every weekend, this is an odd setup.
The current discussion about a universal North American amusement ride inspection standard is precisely motivated by that inconsistency. The technical foundation, which includes design tolerances, maintenance procedures, and restraint testing, is already written by ASTM International’s F24 committee and has been adopted in some form by about 38 states. Adoption, however, is not enforcement. The difference between an inspector walking the catwalk beneath a Ferris wheel at six in the morning and a standard on paper has grown as rides get faster and parks get busier.
A portion of the issue stems from what industry insiders half-jokingly refer to as the “roller coaster loophole.” In the United States, traveling carnivals are not subject to federal Consumer Product Safety Commission oversight because they cross state lines, but fixed-site amusement parks are. Permanent parks are primarily accountable to whatever Authority Having Jurisdiction their state happens to maintain, if it maintains one at all. This is a peculiarity of how product safety law developed decades ago. There are still a few states without any kind of ride-safety office.
For years, organizations like NAARSO and AIMS have worked to standardize inspector training so that people, not just machines, are certified. Perhaps the more significant and subdued part of this tale is that. If the person inspecting the bolts is not trained to identify fatigue cracking or a worn hydraulic seal, a ride may meet all ASTM requirements and still fail. Safety officials believe that engineering has surpassed enforcement, with rides becoming more intelligent while the inspection staff, which is frequently underpaid and overworked during county fair season, hasn’t kept up.
A ride made to a single continental specification may be subject to three or four different inspection regimes before it is bolted to a concrete pad in Canada, which further complicates matters because its provinces run separate regimes. Another layer is added by Mexico. To be honest, calling any of this “North American” at this time is a little idealistic.
Europe provides a useful analogy rather than a model. EN 13814, which is more akin to TÜV certification, combines design standards with mandatory third-party verification prior to ride opening. It illustrates what happens when manufacturing standards and operational oversight move together rather than separately, but it isn’t obviously more appropriate for North America’s federalist patchwork.
It remains to be seen if a truly universal standard will ever emerge. The public believes something similar already exists, industry associations want it, and insurers would likely welcome it. The question of whether fifty states and multiple provinces can agree to give up that much authority is less clear. It’s difficult to ignore how much ride safety in America still relies on the diligence of a single inspector working alone with a flashlight before the gates open as this slow-moving debate takes place.
