We traced Highway 47, crossing the Missouri River into Washington’s movie star face, a gorgeous riverbank town with chiseled features, church spires and storefronts peeking from under a brow of hills draped in nature’s thick mane of hardwood forests. The town smiles with art shops and antiques and festivals, and along the tracks where Amtrak stops, Washington revels in its marriage to the Missouri River.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the steel road for long, because this old bridge, like most of its sisters, requires nerve and skill and keen attention to avoid a sideswiping succession of 18-wheelers, coming at us like they’re pumped from a pitching machine. Most of this bridge’s old river sisters have been replaced by wider, safer spans. Soon this ninety-year-old sister will retire, too. –from Souls Along The Road