Finally, a name for what ails me. Not near as bad as when it started, sometime in the early 80s, but still, occasionally, impressive enough even on the Highway 183 overpasses to force me to keep my eyes on the road ahead of the vehicle and not dare to look to either side.
That’s the only way I used to be able to get over the steep bridge from Aransas Pass to the ferry across the Corpus Christi Ship Channel to Port Aransas. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge, on an early 90s visit with Mrs. Charm, put me into a cold sweat. I was shaking the whole, long, four miles of it.
The short, steep bridge from Portland to Corpus Christi? I saw it coming and pulled over to sit and decide whether I could do it. I decided I couldn’t and made a U-turn when the traffic permitted and took the long way around.
Nice to know it’s not a problem unique to me, though its origin is a mystery.
Via Instapundit
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 