This ‘Pointless’ Bridge Is Hiding A Clever Secret
July 18, 2025
source: Reddit
Skateboarders have long been adept at transforming mundane public spaces into thrilling play ones. From stair rails to low walls, anything sturdy and sloped will become a canvas for tricks. But not everyone is as excited as they are. Over the years, cities and parks have devised skateboarder deterrent methods that are more and more creative — and sometimes weird — to deter them. Skateboarder deterrent designs like the funky, apparently dysfunctional bridge that’s actually a skateboarding deterrence hidden in plain sight.
A Bridge to Nowhere?
The bridge in the photo above seems on first glance to be a mistake. The edifice gracefully arches over … nothing. Underneath sits only a thin layer of mulch or dead leaves. No stream, no ditch, not even the slightest elevation. So what’s it doing there?
The answer, it turns out, has to do not with who is being kept out so much as who is being distanced from those whom the bridge is to be assisting to cross.
Subtle Sabotage: How the Design Serves Its Purpose
It may seem the result of bad planning, or even an intentionally drawn back budget in action, but this bridge is designed for a specific purpose. It’s designed as a skateboarder deterrent to thwart the smooth line skateboarders carve into every space.
To a pedestrian, the bridge is a harmless undulation in the landscape — an amusing bump in the road, perhaps, for children. But to a skateboarder, it’s a cul-de-sac. The dip just under it precludes easy ride-throughs. The arch kills momentum. It’s an odd angle and hard to line up tricks. It is an obstacle in the guise of infrastructure.
And this isn’t the only strategy of its kind. Cities around the world use subtle — and not-so-subtle — anti-skateboarding designs as skateboarder deterrents.
Skateboard Deterrents, a Short History
Skateboarding became an enormously popular sport back in the ’90s and early 2000s. Public squares, parking lots and handrails were suddenly hotspots for skaters. As a result, businesses and municipalities began to look for ways to “skate-proof” their properties without appearing unfriendly or without posting signs that skaters would simply ignore.
This was the era of architectural deterrents:
- Skatestoppers: Small metal buttons that are bolted on the edges of ledges and rails.
- Pebbled or rough textures: Avoid walls and surfaces, which would otherwise be prime grinding areas.
- Raised lines or ridges: Adds texture to smooth concrete.
- Weird curves and slopes: Just enough to keep skaters from gathering momentum or equilibrium.
In that category, bridges like the one depicted work out just right — they’re functional enough to blend in, and wonky enough to dissuade skateboard tricks.
A Delicate Balance
Both sides are understandable, it is easy to see. But skateboarders want unobstructed challenges and creative opportunities. They animate and enliven spaces that might otherwise remain empty. But owners are concerned about liability, damage and noise.
So rather than installing “No Skateboarding” signs that beg for a rebellion, many places are finding design-based alternatives — what some are coming to call “hostile architecture.” Skateboarder deterrent measures often offer a compromise between creativity and control.
The upside? Frequently, these deterrents are passive; that is, they do not criminalize or accost anyone. They just make skating hard enough that skaters go elsewhere.
The downside? And they sometimes punish everyone else as well. It is not just those with wheelchairs to be concerned about—kids on scooters, or anyone pushing a stroller might struggle with overly aggressive design.
When Design Tells a Story
That little arched bridge by the playground? It’s more than meets the eye. It’s one small part of a quiet conversation between urban planners and youth culture. It’s a tale of adaptation, of resistance, of the delicate balancing act between safety and shutting others out.
To the ordinary passer-by, it’s just a charming footbridge. To a skater, it screams in no uncertain terms: “Not here.”
And if you came up skating in the aughts, you most likely remember when these things began to appear on the streets (and your favorite skate spots) — the curb you were really hyped to skate, the long ledge that was supposed to be perfect, the stair set that seemed so ideal — one by one, becoming a ledge, a manual pad, and a stair set that couldn’t be skated. It’s one more small loss of freedom, another token of how much has changed since the good old days, and a testament to how skateboarder deterrent designs have evolved.