I saw the little bathtub Porsche driven by an old gray beard out reliving his youth - it's what we do as we grow old, if we're lucky. He was having fun, me less so as we bounced across the expansion joints on the endless Louisiana bridge in our modern Ford.
Interstate 55 seemed endless cutting through the bayou at 65 miles an hour, or perhaps more. Bumpity-bump.
The bridge was astonishing, rising as it did, vertically out of the flatness surrounding it. It needs a clearance of 220 feet (70 meters) to clear ocean going ships steaming upriver.
Had there been anything to see the view would have been magnificent.
Foul weather from years ago has left it's mark and around here they don't bother to clean up much. You'd be hard pressed to find signs of Hurricane Wilma's 2005 devastation in today's Key West.
The Great River Road ostensibly follows the mighty Mississippi River all they up toward Canada but why it's most famous for is the stretch between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.
This stretch as unprepossessing as it is, is home to sugar plantations and chemical processing plants. The past and the present.
And as usual the cemeteries are there, alongside the road, sprouting for no visible reason in the middle of the sugar fields.
We think of Louisiana and the movies have made us think of cypress trees and swamps and Spanish moss but take a look:
Flatlands and a tall bridge.
And up we go, the sole point of interest as we turned back toward New Orleans.
And back on that endless bridge.
I wonder that our modest seven mile bridge is as fascinating as it is.
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