oldirtydatsun
Ol' Dirty Datsun
oldirtydatsun

At this point, we can just drop the pretense and acknowledge that "all people" really just means conservative white people.

For the All Lives Matter crowd, transgender people are

NorCal residents: “Yep. Keep ‘em down there. Make them think those are the best roads in the state. Stoked. Thanks.”

I drove our Jetta across it and the creaking noises and the flexing made my wife hella nervous. She wasn’t too fond of that.

We had a good time when I took the kids. There doesn’t seem to be a flat area in the whole park. Everything is climbing uphill or walking downhill.

Not cool. Wooden bridges can’t handle that.

Could’ve been worse..

Been done.

Modern day bridges are designed with a factor of safety (Posted weight rating = actual capacity/FOS) of between 5-7.  I imagine this one at least had a FOS of 3-4.

Wow, many a fond memory of Tweetsie Railroad from when I was a kid.  I went to college at Appalachian State too.  Boone and Blowing Rock have a special place in my heart for sure.  

ADOT needs to contact the clever folks at http://11foot8.com for weight triggered (and highly entertaining) enhancement ideas. 

But you had fun at Tweetsie RR. Admit it, you did.

There is no way a bus weighs 70,000 lbs. Maybe chock full of humans who are packing bags of water. That 35 tons is the busses max gross, I’m guessing empty its around 15 tons so it was somewhere in between those numbers.

This bus, other buses and dump trucks will continue driving over bridges like this until some VIP’s senior citizen mother or parents die in a bridge failure. If a church group or bunch of blue haired folks die after a casino trip, we will just hear laments about neglectful bridge maintenance and they will rebuild the

completely missed the opportunity to highlight that arkansas has actual bridge trolls.

Actually, an occasional overload tends to halt crack propagation and is thus beneficial for preventing fatigue. Provided that the stuff doesn’t fail catastrophically, of course.

This was me every time my family got together at the old family home up in Boone, NC. The farm house sat along a hillside in a valley with a river. You had to cross the [what felt like] 80yr old wooden bridge to get to the house. I recall always clinching my butt cheeks every time we crossed it. 

I posted this over at TheDrive when they reported on it the day after it happened, but I’ll drop this here because I like to hear myself type. 

Good thing that bridge didn’t get busted.