Nightmare drive
Bridges never scared me, not even the infamous and much feared Chesapeake Bay Bridge which I had crossed many times riding with my parents as a child. But this time the situation was different. I was totally alone and feeling the growing anxiety of possibly being – or getting – lost. And I could not have been more than 18 or 19 at the time. I had never even driven across a bridge of this size, length and height before. In my mind the Key Bridge truly was a monster lurking there waiting for me, seemingly daring me to approach and cross it!
What initially ignited my fear of the Francis Scott Key Bridge was the way it was shown on a local TV news channel. They picked a distant telephoto camera angle that made it look like a huge and sickeningly steep concrete-paved roller coaster that drivers were forced to ascend. A totally gut-wrenching view with its towering arched truss lording over the river like the skeleton of some Godzilla sized monster. This of course was the same view point that I had seconds ago, and it looked even more huge and dangerous in real life!
As the land fell away beneath the road, I gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to breathe. Would I slide off of the rain slicked road, over the side and into the water? Would my old car be able to handle the incline? I hunkered down in my seat and stepped on the gas. This was it. The vanishing horizon, and then the truss part of the bridge appeared, looming high above me and my relatively tiny late 70’s Ford LTD. I glanced up for only a fraction of a second at the gargantuan iron cage that had now enveloped me. I didn’t notice much of anything else – the other motorists crossing with me or whatever scenery I might have spied to my left or right. It was just me and the bridge. Time seemed to slow down to an eternity. I gripped the wheel and stayed in my lane, and finally I passed out of the steel rib cage of the hulking skeletal metal dinosaur. The horizon ahead of me reappeared, and the land on the other side was in sight. It was then I realized how hard my heart had been beating, and finally I was able to take some deep breaths.
So I had finally made it across that sinister construction that had struck dread into me ever since I started driving. But once I composed myself, I quickly realized that it had looked a whole lot scarier than it actually was. It was no where near as bad as I had imagined it would be. The dreadfully steep angle was nothing more than a camera illusion. If I returned again across the bridge, that trip must have been totally uneventful, as I have no recollection of it at all.
Over thirty years had gone by and I had just about forgotten this frightening memory. Perhaps I had crossed the Key Bridge a few times in the intervening years, but its hold of terror over me had all but vanished. A friend and I had gone to visit her relatives in Dundalk a few years after my nightmarish first trip, so surely I must have driven across the bridge and back. But then one day, a couple of years ago, I had another occasion to go to Dundalk. This time to take my mother somewhere. The Key Bridge was the furthest thing from my mind, and I plotted my course on the GPS. That day the weather was far more pleasant, with spring warmth and bright sunshine. Not knowing the area, I simply followed the GPS instructions. And then, suddenly, there was my former nemesis looming on the horizon. I said to my Mom, “Look, Mom, it’s the Key Bridge.” To which she replied, “Oh No! Did you HAVE to come this way!?” I told her that was how the GPS had routed us, as it will generally choose the fastest, most efficient route available. I did not tell it to avoid the bridge…as I was no longer afraid and had no reason to do so.