Personal Narrative: The Silver Memorial Bridge
I hate winter and my radio wants me dead. You heard me: dead.
Actually, I can’t say with confidence that it’s the radio at all. I’ve swapped it out three times, finally settling on an ancient cassette deck excavated from a musty box in my garage. But it’s not the station, or who’s speaking, or even how modern (or ancient) the radio is. There’s something in the air and it has a home: The Silver Memorial Bridge.
Ten days before Christmas in 1967, the original Silver Bridge collapsed during rush hour into the frigid waters of the Ohio River below. Forty-six men, women, and children drowned in their vehicles surrounded by unopened presents and a cold awareness that their lives had reached a premature end. Two years later, the Silver Memorial Bridge was raised a mile away from the original location where, to this day, people cross without incident or injury. Well, except for me. People still blame the original disaster on Mothmen and U-Boats and the Illuminati. Smarter folks blame bad engineering and poor maintenance. I blame the radio. …show more content…
I know this because I’ve driven it back and forth for months conversing with something that seems to have it out for me.
But maybe it has it out for everyone? How does one even attempt to broach the subject of a homicidal radio to another human being? You can’t and you don’t unless you like the idea of doing the Thorazine Shuffle in a county mental
Actually, I can’t say with confidence that it’s the radio at all. I’ve swapped it out three times, finally settling on an ancient cassette deck excavated from a musty box in my garage. But it’s not the station, or who’s speaking, or even how modern (or ancient) the radio is. There’s something in the air and it has a home: The Silver Memorial Bridge.
Ten days before Christmas in 1967, the original Silver Bridge collapsed during rush hour into the frigid waters of the Ohio River below. Forty-six men, women, and children drowned in their vehicles surrounded by unopened presents and a cold awareness that their lives had reached a premature end. Two years later, the Silver Memorial Bridge was raised a mile away from the original location where, to this day, people cross without incident or injury. Well, except for me. People still blame the original disaster on Mothmen and U-Boats and the Illuminati. Smarter folks blame bad engineering and poor maintenance. I blame the radio. …show more content…
I know this because I’ve driven it back and forth for months conversing with something that seems to have it out for me.
But maybe it has it out for everyone? How does one even attempt to broach the subject of a homicidal radio to another human being? You can’t and you don’t unless you like the idea of doing the Thorazine Shuffle in a county mental