Not long after receiving my driver’s lisence at the green age of 16, I began driving over the Lowry bridge almost every weekend.  I was just a punk kid living in Brooklyn Center dating a sweet girl from Nordeast.  The Lowry bridge was the quickest way from point A to point B, though never was it the safest.

That damn bridge would sway and swerve in the wind, and because of the grating, your car always jerked slightly from side-to-side as the treads struggled to gain traction.  In the winter the grates  would freeze, and one time a friend of mine almost lost his life to the bridge, doing a 720 on his way down the east side.  I just drove slow over it, and flipped it off in the rearview as I sped away.

Despite the anxiety I still hold toward the bridge, here’s a verbal toast, nonetheless, to one of the shoddiest pieces of infrastructure the history of our fair cities has ever known.

We found this at MetBlogs

posted June 22nd, 2009 at 5:50 pm Uncategorized Lowry Bridge