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.
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