Gephyrophobia Anxiety on the Bridge, and The Last Good-Bye to the Ocean

Driving with a Doc on the Bay

“Would you mind slowing down a bit?”

The woman asked me in almost a begging voice.

I moved to the right lane and slowed down to around 5 miles under the speed limit.

I smiled at passengers flying by on my left.

“There it is. My adversary.”

Her right hand extended into the front seat with her index finger pointing at the four-mile bridge on the horizon.

We were approximately 2 miles from the bridge, and I could sense rising concern in my back seat as we approached the structure.

“I have been driving over this bridge for many years and never had an issue. Look at the beautiful sunrise.”

My calm voice, seasoned with optimism, did little to quell her angst.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work!” She snapped back.

I continued to try to distract her.

“I’m curious. You said the bridge is your adversary. That’s an unusual description. Would you mind explaining?”

At this point, we were about to drive over the bridge.

The woman was clutching the passenger front seat with both hands and taking deep breaths. Her head was down. Buried into the rear of the seat.

In short sentences, between her heavy breathing, she began to tell me that her fear of bridges and heights has haunted her throughout her life. She became so obsessed with trying to unravel her fears and understand her reactions under certain circumstances that she took Psychology as her major in college. Ultimately, she pursued post-graduate school and became a psychiatrist.

“Yeah. I help other people work through their issues and I still haven’t conquered this mountain. Ugh, go figure. They call the fear of crossing bridges Gephyrophobia. Did you know that?”

Her knuckles were white as she continued to clutch the seat. Nails dug into the surface. Ten little anchors of desperation.

“Maybe you’re in the perfect place and perfect profession to help others because you comprehend what they’re going through better than most.”

I tried to reassure her and keep the conversation going until we finally completed the trip over the water.

“Hey. Guess what? We’re on the other side of the bridge.”

She slowly lifted her head and looked around.

Buildings and earth on both sides of the highway.

Fingers and hands retracted from the front seat leaving impressions that would last for a while.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, Yes, much better.”

“Thank you so much for talking me down. I was wrong. It worked.”

I smiled and told her this type of thing happens more often than she would expect.

“Not just bridges. Sometimes simply driving in the car. Heavy traffic, waiting at stoplights, dark mornings, late nights, single lane roads, driving in the city, you name it!”

“Wow! I believe it,” She exclaimed.

“The good news is you have lots of potential clients out here, right?”

We both laughed.

Our light conversation continued until we arrived at her destination.

“I think you missed your profession,” she quipped before she got out of the car.

“Psychiatrist is the title of one of the hats I wear when I’m driving. In my case, the session is free.”

Another hearty laugh and another memorable ride for the books.

Final Wish

There she was in the back seat.

Frail and nestled tightly between her two adult children.

Wearing an oxygen mask, tubes dangling, with a small tank tucked between her legs.

With measured breaths, she responded to my general greeting once they got settled in my car.

“Good morning people! It looks like we’re heading to the beach today.”

“Yes. We’re all ready to spend a few days on the water. As you can see, I’m prepared to do some scuba diving.”

She chuckled from beneath her plastic mask and everyone else enjoyed the moment.

“Well, sit back and enjoy the ride. According to my GPS, we should arrive there in less than an hour.”

I found a nice classical station on the radio to accompany a brilliant sunrise.

There was some light conversation in the backseat of the car, and suddenly one of the people sitting next to the elderly woman yelled out to me.

“Our mother is celebrating her 83^rd birthday today. We’ve been planning this trip for months.”

“That’s great! It looks like you will have excellent weather for your getaway. What’s your mother’s name?”

Once I knew her name, I encouraged everyone to join me in a rousing version of the song, Happy Birthday.

Singing and laughter.

I turned down the radio when I heard the mother’s faint voice.

“Thank you so much. Your song is so special to me. This trip is my wish coming true. I have stage-four cancer, and we expect this to be my last visit to the beach.”

For a brief few seconds, I experienced the familiar, awkward gut punch of reality. Regardless of how many rides and experiences of this type, sharing time with people nearing the end of their days, I am struck with the profound honor of being trusted with such intimate news.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this tough journey. I’m also so happy you are with your children and they’re going through this with you.”

“Oh yes. I am thankful every day for my loving children. I could not have lasted this long without their help. I am tremendously blessed.”

During the remainder of the ride, there were many stories shared, tears, prayers, and much bittersweet joy.

When we arrived at their destination, I got out of the car and helped unload the baggage from my trunk.

We all hugged, and I walked over to their mother and looked into her eyes.

“You’re an amazing woman. Thank you for sharing many of your life stories and for your beautiful spirit. I will keep you in my prayers.”

She simply smiled, nodding her head in affirmation.

Then she started waving her hands, “Come on kids. The ocean is waiting. Help me with this scuba gear. The load is getting heavy. I’m ready to float in pure beauty beneath the rocky waters. Unburdened.”

Well said.

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My “Rideshare by Robert” blog continues with new stories, poems, and musings based on my published book, “Rideshare by Robert: Every Ride’s a Short Story.”

The book, and the blog, are short stories about actual rides, observations, revelations, and reflections on the rideshare experience. I hope you find the writings informational, humorous, and filled with compassion for the human family.

My second “Rideshare by Robert” book will include selected blogs published in the Baltimore Post-Examiner, pictures, and new stories.

So, climb in, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

Welcome to “Rideshare by Robert.”

A place where anything can happen and usually does.

 

Disclaimer

I have tried to provide anonymity to all individuals portrayed in my writings while maintaining the story’s integrity. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. And, in some cases, the not-so-innocent. I have substituted the characteristics of individuals in my writings to further my attempt to maintain anonymity. Conversations and other details are based on my best recollection and notes. Although I have spent time driving with many celebrities and public figures over the years, I’ve intentionally omitted their names in my writings. I’ve also modified actual locales along with other details such as when and where the rides occurred to maintain my objective of rider privacy and anonymity.