George Washington and Crossing the Delaware

A week ago today, I crossed the Delaware—twice as a matter of fact. Despite being an automobile passenger, I couldn’t help but think of General George Washington. The first time I replicated the Father of Our Country’s feat was on the last leg of a Bronx, New York-to-Bangor, Pennsylvania expedition. I traversed the Delaware over the Portland-Columbia toll bridge. Eureka: one minute I was in Columbia, New Jersey and the next, Portland, Pennsylvania. One doesn’t have to travel very far from New York City to be in what amounts to another world entirely. On the trip’s flip side, I crossed the Delaware once more, traveling over a short two-lane span—the Riverton-Belvidere Bridge—in thirty seconds. The Delaware River is quite narrow there.

The Bronx-to-Bangor journey was completed in an hour-and-a-half. It necessitated crossing a decidedly grander and more heavily traveled bridge than the previously mentioned. I’m speaking of the George Washington Bridge, a.k.a the GWB, which spans the Hudson River. It was a Sunday and the traffic leaving the city moved right along. There are no tollbooths on the New York to New Jersey route. However, the piper is paid in full on the return.

Fortunately, the Chris Christie administration wasn’t conducting a traffic study across the bridge in Fort Lee. But one isn’t needed to create an ugly logjam on its tollbooth approach. It was smooth sailing on the return from Bangor to the Bronx. That is, until all roads pointed to the George Washington Bridge. The several miles leading up to the GWB added two hours to the—sans traffic—hour-and-a-half trip. Something to keep in mind: Sunday night isn’t a good time to be coming into New York. Saturday night isn’t too good, either. And, of course, weekdays have their rush hours.

The George Washington Bridge nonetheless played a memorable role in my youth. It was an imposing portal leading to the promised land of summer vacations on the Jersey Shore and visits with the grandparents in bucolic Bangor. It was also the road home, which when crossed to the Manhattan side meant that I was ever-so-close—fifteen minutes from my front door—to home. Vacations and good times ending with the crossing of the GWB were invariably melancholic, because “be it ever so crumble, there’s no place like home.” Major Charles Emerson Winchester actually said that when he came upon the friendly confines of the M*A*S*H 4077 after being hopelessly lost—or so he thought—in the dangerous wilds of war-torn Korea.

While the congestion at the bridge is nothing new, it’s definitely worse than ever. I wonder what George Washington would think if he found himself in contemporary Fort Lee, New Jersey. The town, after all, was an American war fort, directly across the Hudson from Fort Washington. It is home now to a lengthy toll plaza and a perpetual stream of gas-guzzling cars, belching trucks, and jockeying buses. Being a toll taker there has got to take a toll on the taker’s health. Fortunately, most of the lanes are non-cash E-Zpass lanes. I can’t imagine what the traffic would be like without them.

The George Washington Bridge as a gateway toys with one’s emotions—it always has. Looking heavenward, it’s a majestic sight—and the view from the bridge in every direction is spectacular. Still, when one draws near the GWB and lands smack dab in the middle of a recurrent traffic nightmare, it gives one pause. Thoughts of moving far, far away—once and for all—from the George Washington Bridge and its perpetual gridlock take center stage. Horace Greeley once said, “Go West, young man, go West.” Map Quest informs me that crossing the GWB is the best way to get there.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)