The Coronado Bridge

The Coronado Bridge

   As I exit the interstate, I’m confronted by the multiple suicide hotline and warning signs that line the onramp. My stomach twinges anxiously as I pass the point-of-no-return. For the next two miles, I’m at the mercy of the bridge. The comfort of being on the ground evaporates as I begin the steep climb that is the Coronado Bridge. It’s foggy, so all I can see is a cloud of walls waiting for me at the top. There aren’t any fences, and the concrete barrier is only half the height of my car. It’s rush hour, so that means the westbound side only has two narrow lanes. I’m in the rightmost lane, and I grip the steering wheel in terror when I get to the highest point of the bridge, two hundred feet high, as a semi-truck passes in the lane next to me. As I gratefully begin my descent into safety, I realize the torture isn’t over- no one pays attention to the 50 MPH speed limit. I wasn’t even able to look at the view, I was too busy saving my life.

   

 As I drive up the bridge, all I can see is sky. I feel free, like I can do anything. As I pass the point-of-no-return, I get that twinge of excitement in the bottom of my stomach. For the next two miles, I belong to the bridge. It’s so steep, I feel as if I’m driving up to Heaven. As I reach the top, I can see it all. Mexico, mountains, San Diego, Coronado, Point Loma, and the Pacific Ocean all stretch out in front of me as far as the eye can see. The cars to my left and right are snapping pictures, thankfully there aren’t any fences to obstruct our view. I come over the tallest point, and Coronado reveals itself to me. Sailboats, paddle boarders, the Hotel Del, and sandy beaches. I come around the curve, and begin my descent into paradise. The sun is shining, and I shift into neutral and let my car gather speed down to the bottom.