Last week I walked from Boston to Cambridge over the Longfellow Bridge. Of all the bridges over the Charles, the Longfellow is the most beautiful.

The surroundings were beautiful too. The blue sky was filled with puffy clouds—temperature, high 70s.  The towers of the Back Bay, set firmly in the Esplanade’s green foundation, provided a dignified urban contrast to the river, on which a duck boat entertained its passengers and two sailboats collided without mishap. Cars whizzed by and the Red Line rumbled along. It was my kind of place.

This glorious experience was marred by one thing: getting to the bridge. Continue reading →