Victory in a Can
I was agitated because I needed to ride my mules across the bridge leading from Iowa to Nebraska. It was hella narrow. He pulled up and asked, “do you drink beer?” and handed me a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon.
“Hell yeah!” I said and tucked the beer away in my pommel bag. He gave me the thumbs-up and I rode toward the bridge that was giving me the yips. I felt calmer knowing there was a reward waiting for me on the other side.
Bridge crossed, I drank the beer. It was still cold and I was thankful he asked me if I drank beer.
Todd. Bridges are measure like cold nights. You’ve got three dog nights and you’ve got three beer bridges. I could have definitely celebrated with a few more cold ones after crossing this on. Narrowest one so far…with impatient drivers to boot. Whew. Makes me look forward to a no beer bridge.
That bridge looks like two beers maybe. Does traffic get scared in spots?