Trout Whisperer - Use at your own risk

It’s an old bridge, on a not too worn path. On the bridge itself it says, use at your own risk. Many don’t.
The sign, just the small metal placard, if it’s any indicator, has plenty of bullet holes through it. One bent corner and splotchy blotches where paint over the years has been chipped off by Lord only knows what.
Today along its extremely thin length it’s frosted in snow, one gorgeous dump of a hump in the middle of the bridge all plumped up and its oozing out of the rusted rails almost, but not quite leaking, and I think with one warm day or a stout wind, those unsupported snowy outcroppings are bound to go down.
Down below, in a narrow ravine, the serpentine stream’s course is totally snow covered with rounded bends as it wends its way out of my eyesight.
At the bridge’s beginning, there isn’t one boot print that proceeds. And I don’t want to step on the bridge so as to disturb the condition of the image before me, or possibly be the first one to step on the bridge, and then maybe go through it.
What to do...
I read the sign again, Use at your own risk, I wonder. I think about it. It occurs to me, if I did fall, it wouldn’t be that far, and the landing would be cushioned by all that snow.
And what if I use it, and trod it safely and someone comes behind me, and does not have the same good fortune.
Well, the bridge has its warning, so I guess no matter what I do, others will have to make their own choice, and I step on the first rail, and start across. --The trout whisperer