This venue was designed during the politically fraught 1960s, when people (you know, middle class whites) could drive in from the suburbs, park in the garage under the sculpture, participate in an activity or two, then flee back to the safety of their homogenous enclaves. The large open paved rectilinear space, the imposing dark glass monolithic buildings in the space, the lack of amenities or seating, reflect the era perfectly. One can almost feel the anticommunist sentiment creeping in as one wanders around the spare environment.

But when there's an event, the city does a great job sprucing up the place. Several times a year, a stage and bleachers will be erected, tents filled with home-crafted handicrafts will sprout, food will be served nearby, and crowds will descend to enjoy, sunburned and greasy-lipped.

Even when there's nothing happening, it's lots of fun to ride bikes around the legs of La Grande Vitesse, slide down the steel pyramid thing, and swing on the colossal tire swing. It's a photogenic (if retro) spot to bring friends and family.