Bridges

I was just flipping through old pictures with my nephew to show him a little of what life was like in the 1980s.

What was so drastically different an experience had I grew up in the 60s?

It's not like anything was new! Everything we lived with, around and used was at least two or three generations old - save for the clothing, vehicles and music.

Of course I'll listen to whatever you've got from this decade, pop rock and nu wave was practically our religion?

Eight bit technology slowly started to creep and our TV tubes were nice and heavy and probably color only about half the time.

HAIR was either fried, living large or both. The landscape was fraught with Afros, chest hair and funky collars.

Remember upside down women's eye glasses?

Back then sex symbols wore leotards and leg warmers.

Even our telephone's were capable of killing a man seven different ways to Sunday. Eight if its a desk model.

No, the experience of growing up in the 1980s was time specific and couldn't be replicated in ANY other era.

We were influenced by “Pac-Man”, “The Smurfs” and the Rubix Cube. David Hasselhoff's Pontiac was a superhero.

I've always had a soft spot for the original “RoboCop” - even though Murphy's execution scene gave most people my age P.T.S.D. We're talking blood, guts, language,  aim and cruelty levels a whole lot nastier than what we find merely watching “The A Team”?

“Can you fly, Bobby?!”

Pure unadulterated squib porn.

We're talking about a sexless “X” rated film and works no other way; PG13 versions be damned.

10-year-olds in 1987 really got a hold of something that wasn't intended for us and we consumed the gore and loose body parts like pure cane sugar.

Restricted movies in this era were fair game for kids provided our parents were too busy to scrutinize what us kids were actually watching and now it's a revered classic.

This was a time when cigarettes were as common as coffee.

Everything that existed was analogue driven which is only about a step up from Rube Goldberg or the old “Flintstones” trope where the animals power modern day conveniences.

I remember being 12 years old the last time I took a bottle opener to a Coke and thought nothing of it.

It was already 1989 by this point and our featured decade was drawing to a close.

My dad had just graduated from I.R.S. school for the visually impaired in Little Rock, Arkansas? This venture would send him to Seattle ahead of us where he'd start the 90s early.

Timestamp:

Michael Keaton was Batman.

“Honey I Shrunk the Kids” made the jump from the silver screen to McDonald's about the time school let out that year. Madonna and Bobby Brown fought for F.M. radio supremacy. “O-we-oh!

“Y-y-ya know it!

“O-we-oh!

“Y-y-ya know it!”

My mom (Judy), older sister (Laurie) and I packed up our rusted out maroon colored '83 Horizon Miser with whatever the moving line missed? And, we ventured out here to the Pacific Northwest - where I mostly claim roots.

I suppose this journey was sort of a rebirth?

Since Laurie had her learner's permit and could split the driving with Mom; guess who got to surf the centripetal force in the back seat all by his lonesome?

I remember the buckles to both safety belts being so  buried between the cushion cracks, a butter knife couldn't find either one.

The interior so many shades of black that it trapped heat and screwed with time itself.

Yeah... I also remember very distinctly eyeballing the pavement of the road zipping underneath my feet (you can picture an imposing belt sander?) through a sizable hole in the floorboards; a 'flip flop trap' if you will. A rather concerning column of daylight through a void.

I lost quite a few Lego bricks and at least one fork down there too? It was like an old hag in the middle of the dark; only existing to pucker one's pooper.

It's true that it probably doesn't make a whole lotta sense opting to go through the upper peninsula of Michigan rather than simply heading through Chicago? But, the Mackinac bridge is almost a family member. We couldn't drive off the edge of the world to flee our favorite age without saying good bye to this spectacle first?

Plus I honestly don't believe we knew much better.

She's always played a background character throughout my childhood; the gateway to grandma's house.

It only makes sense the three of us would leave this direction.

We'd need to frame those twin bright white towers and that green piping in our rear view mirror at least one last time as our home once shrunk sighted in.

It's waving bye to a beloved neighbor.

I only remember staying in that cabin that first night (still along the coast of Lake Michigan), because it was the very same set of cabins we stayed at on the only vacation I ever remember taking with my parents as kids. The first night lodging and it was a place we stayed at before.

It was the same set of cabins we stayed at where  mom poured tap water directly on my head that one time brewing coffee.

My cot was in a dumb place blocking the fridge.

She claimed it was an accident and we 'believed' her.

That's the colloquial “we”, I don't care what anyone else thought. I just woke up real quick  and moved my bed across the kitchen shaking my head and throwing off some serious eyebrow vibes.

Laurie and our two step sisters all shared the same twin mattress claiming that second bedroom, our parents got their room and I got to cozy up to the kitchen sink.

Of particular note on this second day other than the number of times U.S. 2 dipped in and out of Michigan was the bridge between Superior, Wisconsin and Duluth, Minnesota. Major Bong's Memorial.

This gem crosses the Saint Louis River – which... If you're curious??? Has nothing to do with Missouri.

The bridge sorta “s” curves across the water; it janks to the left traveling westbound... It offers this blue suspension rib cage over the state line as its token piece of flare before it corrects back to the right to connect the other bank.

I remember once crossing Canadian Blue Water, a younger Laurie (in the back seat with me) had me convinced we'd have to boogie straight up rails and travel the support trusses? I knew it was bullshit. but I'm looking for signs of traffic above the road anyway.

I suppose that logic would see cars climbing Mackinac's guide wires.

Yeah; I guess bridges must have always sorta fascinated me. I know I've dreamed of them and they've been the object of quite a few nightmares.

It could possibly be traced to as far back as Grand Haven's drawbridge near where I was born. It takes you to Spring Lake - the next town over.

It's dinky now that I'm an adult and look back, but... It must have been every bit as fascinating to me as watching a double Ferris Wheel in action before breasts snapped into existence – ESPECIALLY WHEN IT LIFTED.

I used to love riding across it over the simple pleasure of listening to the grid you cross making tires sing “guuulk!” for about a good 'Mississippi' and a half while the marina below peek-a-boos. The  Holiday Inn building the viaduct sort of ushers you past even offered giant Jujubes in its logo?

I always refer to this cute little choke point as the Gulk bridge and I've burned a few calories pondering who was lucky enough to man the tower and pull the lever.

Another example is choosing Astoria, Oregon's Tongue Point campus when I was dragged to Job Corps by a future girlfriend - strictly over its proximity to the Astoria-Megler bridge.

Luckily that happened to be where most of my friends landed.

Lastly... Who could forget The Chesapeake Bay Bridge as a trucker?

That modern marvel turns into a tunnel periodically that ran underneath this anchored aircraft carrier sitting off the Hampton Roads the time I crossed it.

Major Bong is nowhere near that elaborate.

I can't imagine the reaction being much different though had U.S. 2 sprouted upside down cork screw loops, climbed ancient pyramids or found a crashed Star Ship Enterprise. Pegasus unicorns flying off the horizon be damned. These girders were a regular smörgåsbord for this bad boy's eyes.

I tell you - someone even gave up feeding the floor hole breadcrumbs squeezing those potty muscles taking it all in.

I mean I couldn't tell you definitively that I had to use the bathroom?! But, I'm sure with as wide as my eyes were??? Some buddy's bladder insta-filled cresting that center hump.

We had this black cassette tape that only bore one side of music. The second side was blank.

“Axel F.”, Stacy Q, Darryl Hall & John Oats and the Eagles in no particular order – except Harold Faltermeyer was the last track and the object of the recording; the entire rest of the side served basically as Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack foreplay.

It took forever to rewind it between plays too.

We had a cat named Teddy traveling with us and when I tell you that our car would forever be screwed after that?! I'm talking about a smell so vile, a rotting cadaver would only improve things.

The smell that took over should have alerted a full haz-mat response team. Since observing this odor, I gone on to smell noxious train wrecks that track better.

We would drug the fuck out of him and he'd shit. That is all there is to it.

Now, his litter would have been tolerable had we just scooped it out as we went along or something? But, no... Someone started fighting the cat shit with Lysol.

It was actually worse than that; it was generic all purpose cleaner we thought would Febrezed the air, or I assume that's what we thought. All I know is that particular molecule is forever framed in my olfactory foreman's office wall like a trophy.

By the time we broke down in Grand Rapids, MINNESOTA... (Cause you know something's gotta fail sometime during this trip lest we skimp on the whole misplaced Okie experience???) I'm pretty sure this chemical was already starting to work on a few brain cells.

Due to these brake issues, this family of three - and the phantom baby (since we didn't have enough for said pet deposit and we needed to explain SOMETHING)... Well we'd be forced to spend an unintended weekend in Grand Rapids, Minnesota.

We made it from Grand Rapids to Grand Rapids and that was my idea of neat.

Oh trust me. The novelty wore out rather quickly though when my fickle tummy went haywire? Always has to be something.

I remember seeing my fourth and fifth grade teacher's last name on a water tower when we finally did get moving again.

“MacIntosh”. I got a picture of it and everything. I bought this 110 film camera?

It wasn't as fancy as Laurie's Kodak Disc film number she used, but nothing was sacred.

Nothing more artistic than the jacket hanging up in a motel corner next to a closet door and an inadvertent nostril closeup (before selfies were a thing). And, the film they take up takes up valuable space on a reel too. You only get so many shots?

There's no telling how long it would take to develop either.

We made it as far as Minot, North Dakota before a trucker suggested we divert south and grab an actual federal grade interstate to cross the Rockies rather than trusting a shady U.S. highway.

The brakes never did work right anyway – so we found ourselves driving through North Dakota with no idea what we were in store for. Think Lewis and Clark finding out we need horses for the first time? The mountains were merely rumors on a map up to this point; we had no real concept of the landscape that awaited us.

Let me tell you? The badlands are rather gnarly if you haven't seen them first hand. God was once kneading the Earth making biscuits and QUIT.

They say glaciers ripped it up like a carpet. It could be Martian territory outside those windows if you've never experienced them before.

At this point, Laurie had been driving for a while and shaking off her training wheels when mom gets real interested in an exit.

I've got this yellow jacket interested in me in the back seat and I'm doing everything I can think of to usher him out the window.

“OH, YOU GOTTA STOP LAURIE! WE GOTTA STOP RIGHT HERE!”

Laurie must have translated that to mean we just blew past a police D.U.I. checkpoint or something cause the three of us lurched for the windshield with no warning and we left skid marks on the pavement.

And since I'm into making this about ME, it'll surprise you to find out that little sonofabitch got me right under the chin.

It turned out mom just wanted to visit Painted Canyon, the world was actually fine.

Teddy hated his leash, but Laurie would attempt to drag him across the occasional parking lot to stretch him out and give the prisoner some yard time.

He featured in quite a few stranger's rolls of film that stop, including the lady's who asked me to please not pose with him. It was sorta “rude” funny. Teddy was the cutest thing she'd seen in a couple states.

I guess I sort of lose track of us a little west of Billings, Montana?

I mean we must've stayed one more night somewhere along the way – the car would brake down one final time a little over 700 miles west of this.

The only thing I do remember was the scale of my world adjusting significantly with each elapsing mile.

I also remember the mountains were simply from  out of this world.

We got detoured through Wallace, Idaho city streets because road crews were actually using dynamite somewhere near the 90? I remember thinking THAT whole concept sounding old west and gunslinger like.

The single file parade of traffic we took part in really gave us a glimpse of the past – especially when you squint hard enough.

We were easily suggestible and fell for their racket when we climbed off that mountain too. I couldn't tell you what we had, but lunch was along that main drag.

We broke down on the westbound Indian John Hill Rest Area and believe it or not, that might have been the luckiest thing to happen? A tow truck hauled our dead little four door hatchback the rest of the way.

Seattle (our future) can be insane to a fish out of water. From a Flintstones to a Jetson; the only thing missing were flying cars.