In the beginning, the bridge was bad. People hesitated before proceeding, getting out of their car to test it. Or flat our refused to cross it at all. The first time I had to drive across in the truck, which I wasn’t sure of my position on the road in, I had an anxiety attack. Not a pretty sight.
From there it went from bad to worse, with practically each crossing, especially so if one was hauling much weight, more pieces of rotten wood fell into the creek 4 feet below.
Worse has finally become a wreck. Tom had the truck loaded. As he reached the other side of the bridge he heard a crack and felt the rear axle crash through. He gassed it. Thankfully it pulled up and out the now gaping hole with no damage to the truck itself. Once more after that he drove the truck across.
Now there is no bridge. It has been demolished in preparation for reconstruction. Demolition revealed it was in worse shape, even from the beginning, than we thought. We’re fortunate to have been able to use it this long! Without it as our only access, we drive the car to the bridge, walk across on well-placed beams, and drive the truck from there. Oh bother.