Bridge Blanket Tingle

The days grow shorter, and the end of Daylight Savings Time has not yet arrived. Thus, The Pony and I ride to work in the twilight of not-yet-dawn. It's eerie and unsettling on those foggy mornings. Things seem out of place. Then jump out at you when you're not expecting them. Like the low water bridge.

Oh, I know the low water bridge is there. Even shrouded in fog, I know it's there. I know the fields on the sides of the approach. The sudden dip to get down to bridge level. The orange bendy stick-things that the county road department put on each side at each end, two of which were snapped off the first night by ne'er-do-wells. So Friday morning I was expecting to see the two nearest, still-existing, orange bendy stick-thingies upon descent to bridge level. Not that I was in danger of driving T-Hoe off the side, mind you. But just expecting them to be there as guides, confirming that I was in the right place.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?" The Pony, for once, had not had his head buried in his laptop.

"Yes. I think I did. My mind is trying to make sense of it. Creepy. I'm not going back."

There was something in place of that bendy orange stick-thingy! Something that didn't belong. Something foreign. The best I could relate it to was that alien in a yellow rain slicker in Meatballs II. Something out of place. Something that made the hair on the back of my neck go up.

On the way home, I had forgotten about our close encounter, because the day was bright, and we were approaching the bridge from the other direction.

"LOOK! It's still there, Mom."

I stopped as I drove off the bridge. Not OFF the bridge. Off the end of the bridge, onto the pavement of the road.

"Get a picture of it. And then I going to pull up, so you can get one from where we were this morning."

Yeah. What's THAT all about? Imagine seeing this as you come through the fog and descend to the bridge deck, out of the corner of your eye.

I really don't know what people are thinking these days. If that belongs to a homeless, it's not going to get dried out like that. A tree branch would be more effective. If somebody found it and was being kind to drape it for the loser to find again...WHO DOES THAT? Nobody wants that ratty thing back! Maybe it's a marker for thieves to find their way to mailboxes or secluded homes that are vacant during the day.

I've a good mind to toss it in the creek! But that would be littering. And Val is not a member of the Litterati.