The Stevenson Rd. Covered Bridge

The Stevenson Road Covered Bridge

by Alan King

   One of the landmarks of the Township that holds a special place in my memory is the old covered bridge on Stevenson Road. It sits at the bottom of a long steep hill and crosses Massie's Creek just yards before the road forms a T at Jones Road. Now the bridge has been there for many years and it holds many signs of the kids, young lovers, vandalous teenagers and so forth that have stopped to look through the chinks in the siding, carved their names, or more recently decorated the insides with garish swaths of color from spray paint cans. A preservation group has repaired the side boards that had fallen loose.
       For me, though, the hill before the bridge was the real attraction. My brother and I, along with a few of our buddies, would spend summer days riding our bikes all over Xenia and all over the countryside around town. You must understand that this was in the late 50's and early 60's before there was anything like our present bike trail and before there was quite so much traffic on the country roads. Our mother would have had a cow if she knew exactly where we wandered off to, for she was protective and always a little worried when we were gone too long, but we often rode as far as John Bryan Park from our home near Shawnee Park.
   I had a new Roadmaster bike with a three speed shift and a speedometer. And I was always trying to see if I could get the speedometer needle up to the top. I think it pegged out at 45 MPH, for who in their right mind would go faster than that on a 24 inch bicycle? Well, one day we rode out past the Hospital and took Kinsey Road to Stevenson. It was a warm summer day and we had packed food, canteens and stuff for a picnic at the bridge. It's uphill most of the way and we stopped a few times along the way to catch our breath or wade in a creek.
   We reached the curves at the top of the long winding slope above the bridge. We knew that we had nearly a quarter of a mile to the bridge, and all downhill. We all lined up, glanced at each other and began to pedal like madmen. We reached 20 MPH in a matter of seconds, then really poured it on. Our feet couldn’t go any faster by the time we reached the first curve and the snakelike sign that warned of the curves ahead. The sign said the speed limit through the curves was 15 MPH and we were already going 20.
   We cut across the corners of the next couple of bends and kept gaining speed. The line of gravel on the centerline threw grit up on our legs every time we crossed it. As we reached 30 MPH my wheel began to shake slightly and I could see the mouth of the bridge ahead and the sharp right curve just before the entrance. The needle edged up to 35, then 38, 39.   We were all doing 40 MPH as we tore into the shade of the covered bridge. We slammed on our brakes and our tires made a satisfying scream as we skidded on the hard wooden roadway inside the bridge.   We slid and squealed all the way through and came to a dust enshrouded stop on the other side of the bridge just yards from the hillside at the dead end of Stevenson Road.
   As I drove through the bridge this morning, I looked on it as a father and an adult. We never could have seen a random car coming through the bridge from the other direction. The gravel on the road could have thrown us into a ditch. That same summer one of our friends tried the hill on a new 10 speed bike and didn't make the last curve before the bridge. He hit the side of the bridge with his face and had to have his jaw wired shut for a month. None of those things troubled our young thoughts on that day. The air was warm, the creek made a friendly gurgle and the shady bridge was the perfect place to stand and talk and waste a summer day. The thrill of speed and danger filled us with life. We were the masters of our world.
   I am glad that decades later I have survived those crazy chances I took when I was too young to realize I was taking them. We should remember as our children want to do things that seem too risky from our adult perspective that this is what youth is for: testing, exploring, stretching our vision of what is possible. Survival is the rule, not the exception. Contrary to the old saying, youth is not wasted on the young.   It is essential that they do a few stupid things, make some mistakes, and then learn from them. Especially learn from them. I hope that bridge stays there forever.

Return to Xenia Twp. Articles