I can remember going over this bridge for most of my life. It was a beautiful sight, but the lanes were so narrow.
When I first began driving at the age of 14, I would literally be drenched with sweat when my car finally made it across the bridge. Several times I met an oversized 18-wheeler when I reached the top and wondered if I had enough room to make it through.
I have seen several pictures of the bridge when it was destroyed and a friend of mine even helped build the new bridge.
I found out from my grandmother that when her family came here from Missouri, they lived in a covered wagon below the bridge for several months.