The bridge hole to nowhere good

A hole bigger than an adult human foot currently decorates the west side of the Henry Hudson Parkway Pedestrian Bridge, on the eighth step from the bottom. 

An orange traffic safety cone is deposited in it to warn people not to accidentally step into the hole. Sometimes the cone is right-side up and sometimes it’s upside-down, with its top sticking right into the hole, depending on the cone’s mood.

The rest of the step is crumbling as well, with a smaller hole to the side of the big bad hole to nowhere. The east side of the bridge is deteriorating as well, with various steps being pulled apart by salt, ice, snow and water. The concrete on the overpass has long cracks and ruts in the surface. This winter has been very tough on the old bridge. The paint on the metal sides of the overpass platform is rusting and peeling, although this has been going on for years, regardless of the season. 

The big hole has a lot of character.  The concrete around the hole is eroding into little bits of grey matter. You can see inside of the bridge, about five feet down. My junior companion says the hole is “creepy.” It’s dark — very exciting!

There could be some wild things down there, inside the bridge, creating a rumpus.  Or a Gox, who likes to box (source: “One Fish, Two Fish,” Dr. Seuss, author).  

Maybe the inside of the bridge holds some artifacts from an ancient civilization, such as manual typewriters, video cassette tapes or black and white televisions. 

Maybe there’s an old Jewish deli man down there curing pastrami. Maybe the Bat cave is under the bridge. The Caped Crusader would like the darkness. Maybe a family of raccoons is down there, eating freshly-baked pumpernickel bagels.

Or maybe I’m out of my mind. But I do know the hole and the crumbling steps on the bridge need to be fixed.  

Let’s send an ambulance to take the poor bridge to the bridge hospital. I would be happy to visit the bridge at Montefiore or Jacobi. I would be happy to bring the bridge flowers and chocolates (if the nurses allow it), after it recuperates from a necessary operation. I would read stories to the bridge about happy and healthy bridges, like the Brooklyn Bridge and the Golden Gate, which it no doubt admires because of its current humbled status. But who are we going to get to be the surgeon?

Mike Gold lives and works in the Bronx.