A Cross-Eyed Troll Lives Under Our Bridge

Or something just as evil sure must. It's scary. Just down the street in our neighborhood, a bridge spans a creek without a name. Or I don't know its name. One weekend my wife and I walked along the path that goes by the bridge. I happened to look over in its direction. Huh? I did a second take to be sure.

The road engineers had installed a series of jack stands, or maybe hydraulic jacks, that help to hold up the creaky bridge. Have you ever heard of such a crazy thing? This jerry-rig is on a major thoroughfare the commuters stream over each morning and evening. I seriously doubt if any of them even know the little secret under the bridge they cross without a second thought.

Will the poor bridge cave in sometime? I wonder about it each time we drive over it. We always comment on it. My wife saw in the news it's been rated as one of the worst condition bridges in our area. It reminds me of a bad novel propped up with lots of snappy dialogue or over-the-top action.

I remember the bridge when I'm doing the edits on a new book. I want my narrative to be strong and hold up on its own power without the aid of any jack stands. Still, my fears might be unfounded. The bridge might still be in operation after I'm long gone.

Just the same, I think I'll keep driving a little faster while I'm going over the suspect bridge.


Ed Lynskey
@edlynskey
Author of Lake Charles and Quiet Anchorage