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A bridge across the Whanganui River in New Zealand which leads, believe it or not, to nowhere!

Some people for unknown reasons are inclined to travel halfway up the river and then trek up to this forgotten bridge that leads to nowhere.

In spring of 1938, a huge flood (See: Los Angeles Flood of 1938) wiped out many bridges, and structures around the rivers of the Los Angeles area. It also wiped out was a road being built to the mountain resort city of Wrightwood. Today, what remains of the original 1938 is well, the Bridge to Nowhere. A single arch bridge crossing the Narrows of the East Fork of the San Gabriel River. The bridge is similar to many built around the 1930s in California. In the 1960s an attempt to rebuild a road failed. The ruins of that project is Shoemaker Canyon Rd. the Road to Nowhere. Today, they're both used by bikers and hikers, although the Bridge to Nowhere is also used by Bunjee America.

The Bridge to Nowhere in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania was a nickname of the Fort Duquesne Bridge during its construction. The construction started in 1959 and had problems in 1963 when there was confusion about the northeastern span because the state wanted the bridge to end at Ridge Avenue but Pittsburgh didn't want the West Park area to lose its attraction because of the span. The bridge was available for the northwestern traffic but no northeastern traffic. The bridge stayed this way for quite a while, so it became almost a part of what Pittsburgh was, it even started to become a tourist attraction. There were many reports of cars driving off of the double decker bridge into the Allegheny River. It also became a place for vagrants to live and the most expensive and perhaps the only double decker floating pier. I heard it was a decent place to fish too. The bridge was finally finished and opened in October 17, 1969, however the Post-Gazette's headline was "Fort Duquesne Bridge (Sigh) is Open," which seems to sound as if that Pittsburghers actually liked that the bridge wasn't finished.

Listen, kid, we ain't got much
time for the likes of you
young and unemployed types
'round here no more;

not since the gov'ment
works dried up and the
railroads stopped snaking
through the rolling pasture,

when times were realpropertough,
after the newly-minted men
came back from the Great War
with nightmares they told nobody,

missing their childhood friend Jimmy
from-down-the-road and maybe a limb,
but KingAndCountry!'d been served
and the Minister'd promised 'em land.

They left the sweeping stone bridges
half- or new-built, you know,
men's sweat glistening on
homeward brows regardless and

the river beneath rustling
on in her glittering finery
not giving a hoot 'bout some
damn fool's scheme in the Capital

while the ferntrees laughed softly
in the wind and staked their claim
'gainst foolish foundations;
nothing's gained, nor permanent,

'specially these days, you hear?
Nope, them types of works
kept boys like you busy, out of
trouble and girls, back then,

clearing and settling 'til the
earth said "No more!" and
loosened her tentative hold on the
fecund topsoil and their hopes but

that's just an old man's ramblings;
what do you care about
broken dreams and penniless
shellshocked settlers -

you, with your newfangled gadgets,
impermanent interests, pixel friends,
and this new type of recession
that sneers behind your shoulder?

But listen, kid, I tell you this -
times have changed
and ain't nothing the same,
'cept men's folly, the river,
and the laughing of the trees.

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