It stretches fifteen miles, and there will eventually be more of it.
The Hannibal Bridge also reached to Harlem, where I lived. It let out right at the Municipal Airport, THE airport back then; it was another of my playgrounds.
With both parents at work, I'd wander down to the airport and watch planes taking off and landing. I'd walk around inside the place gathering travel brochures from various counters. If I needed to use the rest room, I crawled under the door of a booth, since it cost a quarter to open the door. Sometimes I didn't have to crawl under, if some nice traveler exited a booth and held the door open for me. The down side of living a few blocks from the airport was that our TV reception was messed up every time a plane flew over. It seems strange that I would have so many wonderful memories of living in such an impoverished area, but once I got over my homesickness for the farm we left behind, I enjoyed my life in Harlem.