I grew up a large part of my childhood in Alabama, with an alcoholic step-father and a crazy Mom.

Just now I was reading some stuff on my girl scout camp b/c it would be fun to volunteer there this summer.

Anyway, I found this site that belongs to some locals who investigate paranormal activity around the area. My girl scout camp is the last one on the page. I remember that story too. Never was there on Halloween so I can't verify anything about it.

Then I saw the one entitled "Hell's Gate Bridge".

That bridge was between Oxford, Alabama and the town of Able on Cheaha mountain, in the Talladega National Forest, where for about 2 years we lived on property with 40 acres of land and 2 lakes. It was pretty land.

So here is the horrible story from my childhood, about the bridge:

When one drives from Oxford to Able (or Heflin, as the crow files) you drive up Cheaha Mountain. The road twists and turns and it is very scary. Well, one way of getting to the road is going over the Hell's Gate Bridge (it has another name, but I can't remember it).

I didn't know the ghost story and I didn't know the thing about seeing Hell if you looked behind you. I did know that every time my Dad got drunk, he would drive me on to that rickety-ass bridge and stop the car and get out, while I suffered a panic attack in the back seat and my Mom told me to shut up, he was only doing it to scare me.

Yes, I said drunk, driving, me in the car with my Mom in the front seat. Don't ask. (The true scary part).

I just knew that bridge was going to fall completely apart with us on it and we would all DIIIEEE!

Funnily enough, one time my Dad drove flat off the bridge (drunk). My Dad's cousin who worked for the police department (why he rarely went to jail for drunk driving) called my Mom, everyone thought he had washed away and drowned.

But he hadn't.

With a broken leg, he had managed to walk two miles to the Rainbow Inn Bar and Grill. It was good he was actually drunk because he couldn't have made it there walking, otherwise.