That's the one. It might have a more official name but I spent a lot of time in Atlantic Highlands as a kid and that's what we called it.
I can remember those days like they were yesterday.
We went to Sandy Hook every Sunday, no matter what - we were in the car at 6am so my Dad could get there early enough so he wouldn't have to pay to get into the lot. The beachcombers were still out in full force while we were setting up our chairs & coolers and what not.
We always left around 3 or 3:30 pm totally sunburned and piled into the back of the LeMans with vinyl seats and no AC.
We ALWAYS sat in traffic on that bridge on the way home, seen plenty a drunken teen wearing cutoff jean shorts hurling themselves off the bridge, or just hurling.