Remnants

Wander through any city and you’ll discover remnants of history underfoot, little shards, artifacts of past eras that glint and sparkle here and there.

Witness the bands of gear-toothed steel, shown in the photo above, that run along the sidewalk edges through the oldest parts of Bristol, sometimes along the edge of the sidewalk, sometimes arcing through a driveway, sometimes worn nearly smooth by centuries of traffic.

I couldn’t figure out what they were.

They’re curb protectors.

For centuries, before Mr. Dunlop of Birmingham England invented the rubber tire, wheels, all wheels, were made of the strongest wood the wheelwright could find, usually oak, and then fitted with a “tire” consisting of a steel band all around the outside of the wooden wheel, the impenetrable steel band designed to protect the wooden wheel from damage.

Problem was, when steel-clad wheel met brick or stone sidewalk edge, the sidewalk tended to crumble over time.

The solution? Fight fire with fire or, in this case, steel with steel.

Thousands of miles of steel curb were fabricated for use in virtually every major city in the world, but most of them have disappeared over the years as urban renewal recreated city after city.

But one of the results when a place falls from economic grace as Bristol did is that the pace of urban renewal slows dramatically, then stops.

Artifacts end up being preserved, not because anyone values them, but because it’s cheaper to ignore than to improve.

The result in Bristol: 18th century steel toothed curbs, remnants of the past, remain.

Most of us look up when we’re in a new place, up at the buildings, at the monuments, at the memorials.

Next time you’re walking along a street in New York, or London, Seattle, Savannah, Vienna, any city that’s more than a hundred years old, look down: what you see may surprise you, delight you, and intrigue you.

Sometimes, the most interesting artifacts are the ones you are unknowingly walking on.