Endless miles…
…rolled under the big wheels. All the hype about this bridge over Lake Ponchetrain was nothing compared to the reality. I hope I never have to cross that swaying monster again.
Being raised in Pittsburgh, I had been on many bridges, so I reasoned this would be a piece of cake. The wind had kicked up quite a bit; Danny and I were unnerved feeling the expanse swaying as we inched along. Beads of sweat had formed on Joe’s forehead as his knuckles turned white and tightened on the steering wheel. Traffic had slowed to a crawl, and it was then I saw the sign declaring this bridge was 23 miles long. Now beads of sweat broke out on my forehead, too. Feeling the tension, Spice’s panting could be heard above the grinding engine. Danny slept on, oblivious.
Forty-five minutes later, we were safely off the bridge and due for another rest stop. I had witnessed Joe becoming more and more agitated as night fell. He brought up the danger of picking up passengers, wild-eyed he suggested we might be planning to assault him overnight. Danny and I tried to assure him, but it became obvious it was time for us to get out of his rig. Joe must have been crashing from his drugs, and the tension was about to boil over. After the truck came to a stop we hurriedly thanked him and unloaded. We took up a space of sidewalk behind the truckstop, contemplating our next move…
Out of the Gutter Art 
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