The Trip to the Stockyard Inn
The trip by auto from Des Plaines, Ill., to the Chicago stockyards on the South Side of Chicago involved crossing the Proviso railroad yards, an enormous complex about halfway along the trip.
The Proviso Yards were maintained by the Chicago and Northwestern, and the Union Pacific lines. To cross, you had to drive over a barely 2-lane, wooden-trestle cantilever bridge; you could reach out and touch the oncoming cars. The bridge, which creaked and groaned, swayed from side to side, especially in a heavy breeze.
That bridge scared me to death. I have always been afraid of heights, and that bridge just reinforced my fears. It was very tall and very long, about a mile long, and scary its whole length. “Deep hole!” I would cry, cringing and finally crawling down from the carseat to the floor, so that I didn’t have to look.
I dimly remember that bridge. I’ve always kind of wondered if it was an actual thing, or imaginary. Glad to know it was real. I assume it wasn’t really all that tall, since it only had to clear the railroad, but tall enough and, yeah, long.