The tragic accident at the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore is sending shock waves through the country and, in addition to the loss of life, will be felt for many years to come.
For me, news of the accident has a very personal side. I don’t want to speak badly of a bridge - especially after it has been knocked down and people are lost as a result of a tragic accident.
In our frequent travels between New York and Washington, we are compelled to navigate the incessant challenges of 95. Our trusty navigator, Waze, does the best it can and avoided the Key Bridge - except once.
On one return trip to New York, Waze took us on 695 around Baltimore to the bridge. As we approached, the roadway appeared to be at a slope that could not be overcome. Too steep. Yet, there was no place to go. It was frightening. As cars sped by, I garnered strength and courage—they could do it, so could I.
I hadn’t thought about my feelings toward the bridge until hearing of its collapse. I was embarrassed of how I felt.
The day of the collapse, I met someone who told me about his many trips between Washington and New York. And we talked about the bridge.
“I hated it, too steep, it scared me,” he said.
“Me too,”’ I shared. My fears of the bridge may have been vindicated, but I didn’t imagine that I would never have the chance to conquer my fear of that bridge in the future.