We used to go to Herring Park when I was little. It was named after a little creek or "run" that ran through the park. There was a wooden plank bridge about a car-width wide over it and a much larger concrete bridge for cars about three storeys above that. Sounds would echo off the big bridge, and it made the rush of the creek sound even louder than it was. I was afraid to cross the wooden bridge because I thought I could slip through the cracks between the planks into this rushing torrent though the cracks were no more than a half-inch wide.