Skeletal remains

So now I watch as the skeletal remains of that once mighty work horse, the Key Bridge, are slowly dismembered and carted away. Day by day until less and less will remain, until one day the river is devoid of the last traces of it. Ships and boats will come and go from the harbor, as was the case in the days before the bridge was constructed and before it fell. In the future a new bridge will rise from those dark waters, like a phoenix with its great outstretched steel and concrete wings spanning the river. Gleaming and bright, untouched by rust and time, the memories of its predecessor’s grim past will still haunt the waters below. But will this new monster, its eventual form still unknown, continue to inspire dread? Will those of us who saw the darkness of the old Key Bridge have the same reaction to its replacement? And to be considered are those unfortunate motorists who fall to pieces in abject terror upon approaching the nearby Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Those poor people, in their stricken phobic state, may as yet have another monster bridge to cower in terror before.

Thankfully I can claim no fear of bridges, despite my initially harrowing encounter with the Key Bridge as a teen driver. Once I actually made it across that monster I found that it afforded me a safe, uneventful passage over the river, despite the pouring rain and slick roads. Also there was the time and trouble it saved me, preventing me from getting even more lost while navigating unfamiliar neighborhoods in the city. My “reunion” crossing of the Key Bridge two years ago also got me where I had intended to go, quickly and efficiently. And for that brief two minute ride, I was able to see beyond the grisly past of this section of roadway.

There have been some other bridges I’ve crossed in the past that left an impression upon me, instances in time I won’t ever forget. One was, unsurprisingly, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. Naturally, as a tourist traveling with my mom, I had to drive across it and then stop and take pictures. Just like all the other tourists do. And yes, it was quite amazing to see in person. At the time I was unaware of the infamy of this historic structure, a red stain of self inflicted carnage that puts all other bridges to shame. A hideous body count that almost no human serial killer could ever hope to achieve. Might I have smiled happily, posing in a picture with that reddish orange fog-shrouded monster looming over the bay behind me, had I known all of its history? Or might I have been totally freaked out, as I was with the Key Bridge? Driving across, taking photos, yet all the while getting a huge case of the willies?