In Ohio, there is a certain type of summer afternoon that you can practically smell before you see it. The smell of fried dough, the metallic tang of greased gears, and the soft hum of a generator driving a tall, spinning object. When parents are unsure of who is in charge of safety, they stand close to the gates with their ride tickets, half-watching their children and half-watching the rides themselves. Most people believe that someone is. The majority are unaware of how much that presumption varies depending on the state they are in.
Most families never consider that patchwork. People are still shocked to learn that there are no federal laws governing amusement rides in the United States. States are in charge of their own oversight, and the differences between them are greater than most parents would realize. Certain states mandate thorough inspections by qualified engineers. Almost nothing for others. Two hours down the highway, a traveling carnival ride in one state might not be subject to the same level of scrutiny.
In the past, Ohio was in the middle. Then came the Fire Ball in July of 2017.
The ride, a spinning pendulum that swings riders through the air, broke apart mid-cycle that night at the crowded Ohio State Fair. Tyler Jarrell, an 18-year-old who had joined the Marines a few days prior, was slain. There were seven more injuries. Excessive corrosion inside a support arm was later identified by investigators as the cause of the failure. For years, the metal had been subtly deteriorating, unseen from the outside due to routine and paint.
The legislative response that ensued was the kind that doesn’t always occur following a tragedy. In late 2020, Governor Mike DeWine signed House Bill 189, also referred to as Tyler’s Law. The law, which was implemented by the Ohio Department of Agriculture, did more than simply tighten regulations. Parts of the framework were rebuilt, and new duties for ride owners that go far beyond paperwork were outlined. It also added inspection standards and defined who can truly be a ride inspector.
The fatigue and corrosion review might be the most important component. It is now mandatory for owners of roller coasters, towers, and intermediate rides to visually inspect their machines for the same type of slow, undetectable damage that killed Tyler Jarrell. If something is discovered, the owner must apply mitigation techniques and speak with the manufacturer or a registered engineer. The state has the authority to immediately stop the ride if the steps are skipped. Records must be retained for the ride’s whole life and given to any subsequent owners.
Additionally, there is a requirement that people are surprised to learn about. Every location and date that a portable ride is kept for thirty days or longer, as well as every location it operates outside of Ohio, must be recorded by its operators. It sounds like a bureaucratic detail, but keep in mind that traveling rides are constantly put together and taken apart, and that when metal fatigue is the enemy, history counts.
About four state inspectors from Ohio inspect about 4,000 rides annually. There is a lot of steel covered by that small group. However, the system they are currently operating under, following Tyler’s Law, is predicated on the idea that failure can lurk in unexpected places. Some states continue to rely largely on private inspectors with less stringent oversight or on the ride owners themselves.
The contrast is difficult to ignore. The rides appear the same when you stroll through a fair in a state with little regulation. The laughter, the music, and the lights. You would never be able to tell the difference. The unsettling part is, in a sense, that. There isn’t a noticeably different experience for parents in Ohio. It’s valuable because they’re receiving something they can’t even see.
It remains to be seen if the rest of the nation will follow. Only in the places where they occur do tragedies typically spur reform. Until then, the gap lies in plain sight beneath the whirling lights, silent and uneven.
