I was playing pool with some buddies in Carl's shed in Tusket on Tuesday night, when Gordon said, "What's that rumble -- is that a big truck?" We checked the window. No truck.
A few minutes later, Eddie got a call. His face went stiff and his eyes darted. The Tusket bridge, a half kilometre upstream, had collapsed.
What!? When we arrived, there was a lineup of cars plus a large flatbed truck with a road machine on board -- all within minutes of crossing the ill-fated structure.