Kicking the can…
I did not take this photo. The GG sent it this morning. I think he is trying to emulate my crossing the bridge photooos in some way. That’s okay but whatever. I have a rather different take on all this…
I got to cross the Mackinac Bridge the first night it was open. We drove over the Mackinac Bridge and back. I was three. My brother was a newborn… I don’t remember the Jamet exit sign that night. I was one o’ them thar smart kids but I really didn’t know, at that time, how to spell Janet or Jamet or whatever. I was three. And I was prob’ly just having a good time. I probably didn’t even see the sign. And maybe it wasn’t even there that night. But it has been there ever since and I have always noticed it. Er… updating this later to note that the sign was not there when I was three — because the *freeway* was not there!
I pretty clearly remember taking the car ferry to get to and from the Yoop and the lower peninsula before the bridge was built. I vaguely remember visiting our MacMu cousins Teri and Sally at their parents’ place in the Houghton Lake area and Grandroobly would drive like a bat outta hell to get us to the ferry on time. 100 miles. I do remember the Jamet sign later on. My newborn (at the time we first crossed the bridge) brother grew up to have his own children and one of them was named Foghorn Janet and dern it all, if I had been given that name, I would like that exit sign too. And I always did like that sign. Maybe I had a premonition back when I was a kid… 😉