Bridge Freezes Before Roadway

Sometimes simple concepts require an elaborate explanation. Sometimes they explain themselves.

In Spring 1971, the Assumption College Greyhounds got to go to Evansville! The basketball team was blessed with skill and luck that 1970-1971 season, beating Holy Cross and losing only to Providence College in Providence during the regular season. The New England Region NCAA Division II tournament was a breeze for the ‘Hounds as we (I was a sophomore) were headed for the National Tournament in Evansville IN. In its time, that season was magical and beating HC was of biblical proportions (all puns intended). You can look it up!

Because it was the first trip for AC to the Nationals (or “Evansville” as most of us called the tournament), much of the college community was scrapping for ways to get to Evansville. One of the faculty, Jim Barbato, announced that he was going and could fit additional folks into his VW bus. Not only was Jim my Geography professor, he was an AC grad himself and just could not pass on the chance to be on the first pilgrimage to Evansville. Somehow, I managed to get the last seat on Jim’s bus. The other five were Jim, Lou, Merc, John and Doreen.

Many stories have emanated from this epic journey. Strangely, all of them are true! This is but one of them. It will not be the last.

The plan was to drive all night to Evansville via I-90 (the Massachusetts Turnpike and New York Thruway) through Cleveland to I-71, then south to Columbus to I-70, west to Terre Haute to US 41 and south into Evansville. Somehow, in the middle of the night somewhere on I-90 near the Ohio-Pennsylvania border, Lou was driving and I was sitting shotgun. I am fairly certain that everyone else was sleeping - dead certain that Jim was.

It was snowing lightly, maybe even sleeting. A sign loomed on the side of the road – it read “Bridge Freezes Before Roadway.” I noted the sign, turned to Lou and asked him “Exactly what does that mean?” “Not sure,” replied Lou. We crossed the bridge. If Jim had been awake, he would have answered the question. He taught Earth Science and Geography at AC. His CB handle was “Weatherman.” He knew about this stuff!

We crossed another bridge. I noticed that Lou, not an excitable person, had noticeably tensed, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I looked at the road, noted that we were driving over a bridge, and that the back end of the bus was approaching on the left (driver’s) side! Lou never said a word as the sweat beaded on his forehead. He eased off the gas and as we slowed the ass-end of the bus slowly receded from my sight. The highway resumed its correct position in front of the bus. Lou finally spoke: “Ya think that’s what the sign meant?” “Dunno,” I answered. “I suppose so.” We drove on into the night.