Leave it to the Brits to come up with this innovative solution to an all too common embarrassing problem!

I have always hated this bridge.

I have an irrational fear of going over this bridge.  When I was a little girl, I would crouch in the backseat, eyes closed, fingers dug as deep inside my ears as they could go so I couldn’t hear the “whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” sound of the tires on the grates.  It isn’t a bridge we went over often when I was little, and it quite surprised me when I became an adult driver, and drove over it the first time.  The minute I drove onto it and I heard the “whirrrrrrrrr” of the tires, the panic welled up inside me.  “This is that bridge!”  I realized.  For five years it stood in the middle of the route from our apartment to Zan’s parents’ house, so I had to conquer my fear and drive over it on many occasions.  Now, I traverse it only occasionally, but find I still must take a deep breath and pause a moment in prayer before allowing myself to proceed. 

Over the weekend, on my little Photo Ride with Mister (you know the one…I photographed the osprey (?) nest then…) I came across a very similar bridge which crossed the canal.  This one was even narrower, and steeply humped.  I didn’t feel the fear though.  I actually stopped in the middle of it and shot this photo of it’s twin a bit further upwater. 

This begs the question, “What is it about that bridge?”  I don’t have a problem with all bridges, so why does that one bring me back to my childhood, hunched terrified in the backseat?  I haven’t got a clue.  Just one of those things…is there a psychologist in the house who could answer that question?  Feel free to post your psychiatric analysis in the comments.  (Fake analysis welcome.)  🙂

I almost forgot to tell you!  The weirdest thing happened to me today!  I was on my way to Mister’s Peewee Soccer (that’s a whole other story, which I’ll save for another day!) and all of a sudden a car backed out of a driveway in front of me…I slammed on my brakes, and then had the sense (in the middle of my swearing tirade) to notice that there was NO ONE IN IT!!!!!  The car proceeded to drive backwards across the street into another driveway and straight into their closed garage door.  CRAZY!!!  I stopped, knocked on the car owner’s apartment door, and the second she opened it, she glanced across the street, noticed her car and yelled, “OH MY GOD!!!!”  I felt kind of silly saying, “Um, yeah, I was just letting you know that your car backed out in front of me and is sitting in the middle of your neighbor’s garage door.” 

You just can’t make this stuff up.