Trouble at the Bridge

It was a tow truck, towing a utility truck that had a retractable pole and that pole made it too big to be on the highway. The pole smashed into an overpass at full speed. Luckily, only one person was injured.

Unluckily, for me, this bridge is three blocks away from my house and it is the bridge that the bus uses to come into my town and take me to work. What do I do now? I can stand on the corner in below zero temperatures, for an hour, waiting for a bus that is never going to come because it has changed its course to avoid the broken bridge. There is no warning that the bus is never going to come. There is never a warning. The bus service in NJ is painfully bad. There is no information on the website about a new route, although I have learned from reading in my local newspaper that the bridge will be closed “Indefinitely” for repairs. Now I will have to walk and find another place to meet the bus. This will add another 30 minutes on to my one hour commute to work, and I have to guess which route the bus is taking. I might be waiting at just another obsolete bus stop.

I told my son about the bridge. A few hours later, while passing my Ex in our shared kitchen, I made the mistake of asking her if she knew about the bridge. She immediately grew argumentative and defensive, as if I was accusing her of having driven the truck. “Do I ever take that bridge?” she snapped at me, like I was wasting her time. She drives over this bridge quite regularly. It is our quickest access to the neighboring town. We drive over it at least a few times every week. Of course, it could be that in all of these 20 years of crossing the bridge she might not ever have known that we were on a bridge and that there was a highway underneath us. She really is that stupid.

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