Daryl Lease is an editorial writer at the Herald-Tribune in Sarasota, Fla. His e-mail address is daryl.lease@herald-trib.com.

FLORIDA -- I dread the day when my 2-year-old daughter learns that we live in Florida, the Amuse-Me State, where roller coasters are second only to golf carts as the most popular form of mass transit.

I could always take up golf if my little girl ever shows an interest, but my knees are simply too weak for coasters. Whenever I am on one, I reflexively throw my hands over my eyes in screaming-ninny horror. Next to me, Eduard Munch's yowler on the bridge looks like a fellow who just got his Prozac prescription filled.

It turns out, though, that I have something in common with the folks who get paid by our government to inspect these thrill machines for safety. Thanks to rickety regulatory powers, they do a lot of peeking through their fingers, too. Sometimes, in fact, they do not look at all.

Calculating the risk

Surprisingly, more than a dozen states do not employ inspectors to check out the safety of rides at amusement parks, fairs and carnivals. In fact, only two states have full-time inspectors. Florida is one of them, but it exempts the biggies -- Walt Disney World and Universal Studios in Orlando and Busch Gardens in Tampa -- and lets officials at those sites monitor their own machines.

As you can imagine, these facts do not amuse weenies like me. Some might say my fears are irrational. After all, the chances of getting seriously hurt on a thrill ride are small, especially if you behave yourself and do not try to pull stupid stunts like jump cars in mid-holler.

Are amusement rides more dangerous than just a thrill?

The International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions claims that the risk of serious injury is one in 25 million. It is more likely that I would win the Florida Lotto or bump into Ed McMahon or Dick Clark and their sweepstakes van in my driveway.

The remote odds of injury are little consolation, of course, if you or a family member happens to be among the unlucky ones to get hurt on a thrill ride. And people do indeed get hurt. Recently a man lost his finger when he snagged it on a screw protruding from a structure at Walt Disney World, and a woman hurt her back when a seat broke loose on a ride at Universal.

An average of five people a year die on amusement park and carnival rides in the United States, according to the Consumer Product Safety Commission. The death toll last year was six. An estimated 9,200 people were treated for injuries in 1998, up 24% from 1994, according to the commission.

The trouble is, those figures are partly guesswork. In numerous states, amusement parks are not required to disclose such statistics or give the public access to accident records.

Safety first

Rep. Edward Markey (D-MA), an advocate of more government oversight of amusement parks, says medical studies point to at least 16 instances where people have suffered brain damage on roller coasters.

He and others have rounded up testimony from engineers and doctors who say that the rush to create bigger, faster and scarier rides is growing increasingly dangerous. They say the rides of recent years have brought us perilously close to the point at which the human body, especially the brain, can endure no more. "Technology and ride design are outstripping our understanding of the health effects of high G-forces on child and adult riders," Markey recently told the Associated Press.

Congress and some state legislatures are contemplating ways to increase ride inspections and help ensure that rides meet minimum safety standards. The idea does not excite the owners of amusement parks who, understandably, are squeamish about climbing hills of paperwork.

Officials with the amusement industry in Florida and elsewhere say they have plenty of incentive to inspect their own rides and make sure they are safe. If they are not vigilant, they say, they would have to pay expensive lawsuit settlements and would lose droves of customers.

Amusement-park operators also argue, somewhat convincingly, that an inspection system will not work. They say that many of the super-duper rides of today are simply too complicated for the average government-employed ride inspector.

Through the years, I have met building inspectors for whom French doors are sophisticated. I do not doubt the same shortcomings are shared by at least a few roller-coaster bureaucrats. But really, no inspections because they would be difficult? Does it truly make sense for government officials, who regulate safety for everything else we ride in -- from baby buggies to airplanes -- to throw their hands in the air at the sight of a roller-coaster and say, "You're on your own, kiddies. Too danged tough for us"?

Too much trust

The current system relies too heavily on trust. A full-scale inspection program may not be necessary, but existing statistics and medical studies suggest that Disney and the other masters of amusement should be required to provide comprehensive accident reports at the very least. Should a pattern of trouble emerge, then lawmakers can determine whether more frequent and independent inspections are justified.

I may be a squeamish fellow, but I do not want to take all the fun out of amusement parks and carnivals. If people want to swirl their brains and their last meal, I am laissez-faire and at least five steps back. Go to it.

But I think the government, either at the state or federal level, has an obligation to do its best to ensure that the thrills and chills do not follow park-goers home.