My grandparents had a farm up in Shawville Que.About 1/2 mile from the farm was one of those old bridges you talk about.So narrow, that we would have to listen for cars coming down the gravel road,so we could get off the bridge before they got there.
I would go and sit on that bridge with my Gramps, and he would whistle as we sat there and fished little brook trout.
Ahh yes, those summer days were the best
Dang, i got all misty there for a minute.