Reading about the Francis Scott Key Bridge instantly took me back to that foggy morning in 2018 when I rode my bike across it with my sister. We’d set out early to avoid the rush, the water below still a slate gray, the towers looming like silent sentinels. As we pedaled, the wind whipped through the cables and I could hear the low hum of traffic far above, a reminder of how the bridge is both a lifeline and a work of art. https://www.chordie.com/forum/profile.php?id=2646112 We stopped at the midpoint just long enough to snap a quick photo, the city skyline shimmering through the mist, and then continued on, feeling oddly privileged to be so close to something that carries so…
Reading about the Francis Scott Key Bridge instantly took me back to that foggy morning in 2018 when I rode my bike across it with my sister. We’d set out early to avoid the rush, the water below still a slate gray, the towers looming like silent sentinels. As we pedaled, the wind whipped through the cables and I could hear the low hum of traffic far above, a reminder of how the bridge is both a lifeline and a work of art. https://www.chordie.com/forum/profile.php?id=2646112 We stopped at the midpoint just long enough to snap a quick photo, the city skyline shimmering through the mist, and then continued on, feeling oddly privileged to be so close to something that carries so…