The Covered Bridges Of Franklin County: Part 1

Covered bridges, with their wooden beams and lattice frameworks, are an anachronism of a more pastoral era. Once, these dusky tunnels spanned nearly every stream, brook and river of the North East. An integral component of yesteryear's infrastructure and economy, they not only provided passage for travelers but allowed for the transportation of crops and produce from farm to market. And because of this, the construction of these covered bridges were as likely commissioned by farm owners as they were by townships. Today, these bridges are a dwindling institute of a dying agricultural era. Replaced throughout the last century by steel and concrete spans, the diminishing numbers of covered, wooden bridges in the North East serve as yet another indicator of a region in cultural transition.

What is truly marvelous about these bridges is their aesthetic. The rustic, weathered beams, the hand hewed mortise and tenon joints and the smell of tar-coated century-old wood harken back to an age of hard-muscled, self-reliance. An age, if you can believe it, where the sins of the last decade can not be cashed-in for a $4500 down payment toward shiny fuel-sipping redemption. So, I have taken it upon myself to make record of the existing covered bridges in Franklin county. Lest we forget our history, when the last of these bridges fall.

Below, is the first installment of photos. There will be more to come in the future. In fact, I've only recorded four of the seven covered bridges in Montgomery, VT.


Maple Street Covered Bridge over the Millbrook in Fairfax, VT
Built 1865 by Kingsbury and Stone




Hutchins Bridge over the South Branch of the Trout River in Montgomery, VT
Built 1883 by the Jewett brothers
(seen here under renovation)






Above: note the numerous new timbers in the rafters and along the lattice work (wow, look at that nice Saturn, soon to be a collectors item now that the brand is slated for oblivion)

Below: fresh tree nails, some of which are yet to be driven in.



Longley bridge over the Trout River in Montgomery Village, VT
Built 1863 by the Jewett Brothers




Below: plaque citing excellence for preservation is offset to either side by an inspector's comments regarding deficiencies in the lattice work.



Hopkins Bridge over the Trout River in Montgomery Village, VT
Built 1875 by the Jewett brothers.






Fuller Bridge over the Black Falls Brook in Montgomery, VT
Built 1890 by the Jewett brothers.

Hello all. I know, I know, it's been a long time since I've posted to this auto blog. I have excuses, some of which are plausible, but I'm too tire to get into that now. You see, I just got back from the annual Summer Nationals in Worcester, Massachusetts. It was, of course, a life altering experience! I'll have more pictures later, but here are a few teaser shots to tide you over.

This is my brother. His name is Nate and he's the only certified ADTRAN tech in the state. His company just went belly-up. Please, someone give him a job. He's very employable, really.

I know it's been a while since I last posted here. Sorry, seems I've been carried away with my new camera and the corresponding photo blog. So, here's some pics from the local airport. My pal, Cliff (the guy on the right), runs the place and spend his days wrenching on float planes and old Yugoslavian fighters. Not a bad life, eh?

Easter Antics

Today, I installed a steering column in the race rabbit. Do not be alarmed, the race rabbit has always had a steering column. It's just that the bushings in the original column - after more than 168,xxx miles - are, well, shot.

As fortune would have it, I happen to have a parts-car standing by for just such an occasion. By-the-way, my wife cringes every time I say the words "parts-car." Sometimes, when I'm feeling malevolent, I whisper the phrase into her ear while she's sleeping. Invariably, she awakes with a jerk, her protuberant eyes searching the bedroom as if the pariah, derelict-of-a-vehicle might actually be present in the house, stocking her.

Aside from inducing psycho-motor agitation, parts-cars are a veritable treasure trove capable of yielding rare or expensive components that might be otherwise unobtainable. It's like finding a little Spanish gold in your backyard - well, sort of. Please, check your local zoning regulations before acquiring your own parts-car.

Now, let me quickly tell you the story of how I acquired my parts-car. It was about seven-years-ago when I happened to be driving along the main road in North Springfield, Vt when I glanced to my left and beheld a mystifying vision. There, parked on a grassy side-lot, was a heavily oxidized, dun-colored '83 Volkswagen Jetta. On its windshield, tucked under a wiper blade was a scrap of cardboard emblazoned in black Sharpy with the words "4 Sale." If I recall correctly the "S" was written backwards. With great aplomb I halted my vehicle. In fact, the only thing I might have stopped faster for would be a bungee cord lying in the middle of the road. I love free bungee cords and it distresses me to see them so carelessly abandoned. Ask me someday, and I'll show you my collection.

Anyway, back to the story. Upon inquiring with the property owner I discovered that this gem-of-a-Volkswagen could be had on the cheap.

"50 bucks and it's yours, heck, if you can get it started I'll let it go for free," was the owner's offer. It seemed I would not need to barter.

"What's wrong with it?" I inquired.

"It doesn't have a battery and the mechanic says it needs a fuel pump," was the reply.

It just so happened that I had such a battery stowed in the trunk of my trusty Saturn. As for the fuel pump, turns out that the mechanic was mistaken. After installing the battery, I slipped behind the steering wheel and discovered that the fuel-pump relay had slid out of the fuse block. This malady was easily remedied and after two tries that little Jetta fired up. Did I mention it was free.

Back to the present. After installing the steering column from the parts-car into the race Rabbit, I decided that I would switch over all the lock cylinders from the parts-car so that I would only need one key for the Rabbit. See, due to a repair by the previous owner, the Rabbit has always had separate keys for each door.

Considering that I had swapped over the ignition block with key cylinder intact, I figured the rest would be easy. In fact, it was with little trouble that I was able to swap the door handles from the parts-car to the race Rabbit, however - and this is where things get a little, well, miraculous - the Rabbit is a hatch-back and the Jetta a notch-back. The locking mechanism for the hatch on the Rabbit is, of course, different from the Jetta's arrangements. Sure, I figured, I could swap the actual lock cylinders, but I was getting tired and the cold was starting to seep into my internal organs.

What the heck, I thought, let's see if the Jetta key will work in the Rabbit's hatch lock. After all, we've all heard those urban legends about people leaving the grocery store in a stranger's Chevy because the car was an exact match to there own-right down to the key. It's not until later, when they discover a kilo of cocaine or a dead Jimmy Hoffa in the trunk that they realize their blunder. But, that was the 70s. Still, you never know. So, with this in mind, I slipped the Jetta key into the Rabbit's hatch lock and, behold, it turned.

Of course, I proclaimed this a miracle. The fact that it was Easter, only lent credence to my claim. My wife, upon hearing my inspiring re-telling of the divinely-touched tale of Volkswagen repair, was nonplussed. She smiled broadly but said nothing.

"Are you smiling because you're happy that I've had such good fortune?" I asked.

"Oh no, " she explained, "I'm smiling because a few more parts have left the junk Jetta(what she calls the parts-car) and this is a sign that it may be going away someday."

I've launch a new blog. Check out my street photos at: http://sevencardanvtscenes.blogspot.com . Feed back is always welcome and, in fact, I even have one documented blog "follower." Woohoo. That proves it, I'm not just talking to myself.