Countdown: The Fair Haven Firemen's Fair Set-Up

It's a sure sign that summer is ending and a coveted tradition is gearing up when you drive by the Fair Haven Firehouse and see the grounds peppered with Majestic Midway trucks, dismantled amusement rides, tents, mini golf to the side and cleared fire truck bays.

They're setting up for "the fair" — the Fair Haven Firemen's Fair.

To all in the area, though, it's just "the fair."

It has always marked endings and new beginnings: R-FH students meeting up on the grounds and saying their week-long good-byes before heading off to college; kids coming back together before school starts and talking about who got what teacher; and those many familiar volunteer faces handing out balloons and prizes and serving up some classic fair food.

The fair is always held on the last week in August. It starts Friday, Aug. 23, this year and runs through the following Saturday, with Sunday being the only traditional day off. 

Take a look at the photos of the set-up (above) and tell us which of the dismantled rides you see has appeared at the fair almost since its inception. Only a few have arrived so far. One looks new and one is an iconic standard. 

What's your favorite ride, booth or food from that famous fried food kitchen?

As the fair unfolds, Patch will feature a series of photo galleries and stories about various facets of the grand R-FH area tradition. Stay tuned and tell us about those favorites of yours in the comments section below.

I'll start the comment stream right here with my own Chicken Little five cents. My favorite was the carousel, back in the day when carousels were pretty standard at fairs.

But I didn't like the horses. Nope. They, for some reason, freaked me out and made my pigtails even frizzier. I liked the carousel, because I could sit on the bench with the lion's head on the side of it, which made me feel very cool, and just go 'round and 'round and daydream. Oh, brother.

Most feared was that stinkin' Zipper that everyone loves so much. Just looking at the thing knots up my stomach. OK, there's something painfully comforting about seeing it there every year.