About every two months or so, I have to drive out to Richland County. The drive itself is boring: the road is almost completely straight for about 60 miles with little to nothing by way of scenery.
But what I liked about it was that halfway through, there was an old metal bridge that was, for a while, rusted and painted a kind of blue. The bridge crossed the Wisconsin River (I think it's the Wisconsin River) and driving across it for some reason always made me smile, the quick-flicks of shadows flitting over my windshield and my face, the old-timey-ness of the bridge making me think, for some reason, of childhood -- the bridge seemed to filter the sunlight in such a way that everything, for just a second, was both brighter and somehow faded.
Then they built the new bridge, and now when I cross the Wisconsin River, this is as close as I get to the Old Bridge:
Sometimes progress isn't.