Burning Bridges

Saturday, in the fog and rain, I went up to the bridges. There’s not a lot left of the old bridge now. Only a few sections left to come down. It’s not even a bridge anymore really, that’s what it felt like. More like parts and pieces with no purpose.

I’d been on the bridge about twenty minutes when a deputy sheriff pulled up with blue lights flashing. I knew right away what he was up to, and the first thing he said when he stepped out into the rain was ” You’re not going to jump are you?”

“No, not when it’s raining like this.”

“Someone called in reporting a guy on the bridge. We’ve had so many I have to check it out.”

He checked my ID, and decided I wasn’t an escaped convict, unregistered sex offender, or on a terrorist watch list, or mentioned on any other bad guy list, so I was free to go. These days you never know what’s going to come up, there are a lot of lists out there, so I was relieved.




They cut the frame with torches, secure the cut section with the cables from the crane,  then cut the vertical wires that suspend the deck from the main suspension system.

Section lowered to the small barge, which ferries the pieces to shore where another crane lifts them off. A few more days and all the old deck structure will be gone.

It’s still unnerving standing in the middle of the new bridge. The railing is plenty strong obviously, but you can see through it, and like I’ve said before, and as the sheriff’s visit reminded me, the place has a history.

On another note, several tractor trailers crossed the bridge while I was out there. I didn’t feel so much as a vibration from the bridge, which says it’s a pretty impressive piece of engineering. When the old bridge is completely gone, and the new one stands alone, then it will come into its own unique identity.