Rohlfing's Bridge

Ok. Raise your hand if you have ever been to Rohlfing's bridge.

Rohlfings' Bridge is a Bridge in Illinois which bears our name but never belonged to us. Nonetheless, it is a staple in our days of growing up in Vandalia and one of my Top 365 memories inspired by my friend Pat Billingsley who I so fondly remember one evening at the bridge. I have a few memories of the bridge.

We used to have high school parties on the bridge. It was located down the road from our house in the country and thus named after us. My Mom reminded us frequently that that was not our bridge. She did not want our name associated with that social spot.

One memory I have of the Bridge is of the boulder that sat on the right side of the road right before the bridge. It was there that my friend Pat was barreling, and I mean barreling,  down the road in her Fury and stopped suddenly. We hit the boulder full force before stopping before the bridge. We were in no way hurt, but boy did we have h..... to pay the next day explaining to Mr. Fitzgerald how that large cut got into the side of his car. As I recall we did not worry much about it that night because our philosophy was always to worry about it tomorrow.

Another memory of the Bridge relates to one of our high school teachers, Mr. Heinzmann heard Nev and I talking about going to a party at the Bridge that week end. We all congregated that night and who showed up, but Mr. Heinzmann on his Harley. You can imagine the looks of surprise of all of we high school students seeing our English teacher show up, but we made him feel welcome and were delighted to have him.

One of my other favorite memories of Rohlfing's bridge was when I was a senior in high school. We were down having a party on the Bridge and suddenly my Mom showed up in her house coat duster. It was a Friday night and our Aunt Rose had heard over the police scanner that there was a party at Rohlfing's bridge. My Mom came down and dragged me home so I would not get in trouble. She still was not happy that the Bridge was named after us. What she did not know was that my brother, always the sly one, was also at the party and under the Bridge. Being the good sister I am, I did not snitch him out.

Growing up in a small town has its perks. You grow up with great friends and build relationships that last on memories forever. Road parties are a part of it. We never hurt anyone and fortunately  no one ever was hurt.  I am not sure if kids still have parties at that Bridge or if they still call it Rohlfing's Bridge because we are long gone. What I do know is that at every get together where we have high school friends, those memories of the Bridge come up.