No, I’m not talking about a horror movie. I don’t like those things. And no, I don’t have a fear of bridges, or gephyrophobia. Well, not all bridges. Just one, and to be honest, my terror took me by surprise.
You see, I grew up next to a bridge that spanned Bull Run Creek. Crossing over it was an everyday part of life for my family and most of the people in our neighborhood. For years, we simply called it: The Bridge. Now it is named the E.O. Clark Memorial Bridge after my great grandfather. He had been the local school principal, teacher, church deacon and the justice of the peace. I have often heard people refer to him as Squire.
As for my bridge of terror story, it happened in 2009 while I was driving to a writer’s conference in Black Mountain, North Carolina, with my author friend Paula Mowery. We were talking and having a fun time until we came upon backed-up traffic. The traffic was being funneled into one lane across the bridge on I-40 that spans over the French Broad River. Construction workers were working on it.
As I started to drive over it, I didn’t think anything about all the construction work. Then I looked over at the side of the bridge and saw a wide gaping space where the outside barrier once stood. The barrier that kept cars from falling off the very tall bridge.
Yes, they had placed temporary barriers in front of the huge space, but I could still see all the way down to the French Broad. That’s when my vivid imagination went wild. I envisioned losing control of my car and careening through that hole and plunging into the river below. Or maybe somebody else would lose control of their car and slam into us, which would send us through the gaping space. It even felt as if the hole was trying to pull me toward my doom.
Terror surged up my spine. Let me tell you, I had a death grip on that steering wheel. I’m surprised my knuckles didn’t turn white. It felt as if I would never get off that bridge of terror. As soon as my car wheels touched land, I let out a sigh of relief.
I think my friend Paula was surprised at the extent of my fear.
“And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith? Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.” Matthew 8:26 (KJV)
I hate to admit it, but the same question could’ve been asked to me. Where was my faith? Obviously, it was overshadowed by my fear and imagination. Instead of imagining my Jeep plunging off of the side, I should have been saying to myself, “Your Savior has got this. Don’t worry.”
After writing this article, we traveled to Ormond Beach, Florida, to visit relatives. Ormond is just north of Daytona. Did you know sections of these two cities are located on a barrier island? To reach them, you have to cross over very tall intracoastal bridges. The picture I used is of one of these bridges. On previous trips, it took me a couple of times crossing them not to be nervous. But not this time. As we drove over a bridge, I looked over the water and thought, “Jesus has got this.”