Head Out On The Highway, Looking For Adventure

Head Out On the Highway, Looking For Adventure

G-Burg may have been the destination, but the trip there and back needn't be uneventful. Just a couple twists and turns and you are in another world. Am I exaggerating? Maybe a bit, but new ground is always fun ground.

Mr. and Mrs. Wombie and I cruised the back country roads that are travelled only by those who live back here and the mail person, and probably the occasional Fed Ex or UPS guy. You can't generally ride these roads by bike because of the gravel, but a Jeep is fearless back here.

Egads, buffalo? Are we in the Dakotas? Nope, just a few miles outside Monmouth.

This represents the perfect country road. A lack of power lines, dark and mysterious roadside trees and shrubbery means civilization has receded. This is how a lot of modern horror movies begin.

Truth be known - we were on a quest, of sorts. When Mackenzie was in high school she excitedly talked once about Crybaby Bridge near Monmouth. As legend goes an unwed mother, driven mad by abandonment, threw her week old baby over the side into the water below. Or a bus load of children drove off and were killed, or a mother and her two children went over the side. Whichever legend you prefer, the story goes that putting you car in neutral on the bridge, the ghosts will push the car up the hill. And, if you bring along some baby powder and sprinkle it on the bumper, you will be able to see little baby hand prints and perhaps even hear the cries of a baby.

And if you go there on Halloween, well, you get the picture.

One night as were were enjoying Tiki Friday with the Gerdes' and when the Blair Witch Project was terrorizing moviegoers, we decided to go check out this Crybaby Bridge for ourselves. I can tell you that we did not hear any babies nor did we bring any baby powder, but when we parked and put the car in neutral it DID move slowly toward the hill. I swear.

I was anxious to revisit this place and Mr. and Mrs Wombie being good sports, we had to find this old spot of legend. The bridge above is the bridge of Crybaby fame. Nothing happened of course, but then why would it? It was broad daylight, time for baby's nap.

The broad expanse of Midwest farm country. The only ingredients for an adventure is a tank of gas (my buddy Neighbor Tim says you are never lost if you have gas), some time, and a lonely country road. All the times I thought I had to be somewhere, and missed a chance at memories.

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