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Descriptive Essay About My Grandfather

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My Papa was the greatest man I have ever known. He portrayed the perfect American man: he was a Navy veteran who continued to serve his country by riding his motorcycle in the Patriot Guard. To me, he was god-like--there was no question he could not answer and no problem he could not solve. He could cook anything, build anything, do anything. His heart overflowed with selflessness. He set aside his own problems to listen to mine. He always helped his neighbors clean their yards or change their oil; he knew mechanics like an old friend. Papa would always be on the road, riding his favorite tinkered motorcycle with his Navy Veteran biker gang.
At first glance, Papa resembled a motorcycle; strong yet intricate. He was a large, leathery man with a prickly beard and soft ponytail covered by his battered sailor’s cap. He always wore his authentic black leather jacket, embellished with pins and patches, like the jewels on a crown. He worked hard to earn those trophies on his torso. They represented all the places he traveled, all the feats he overcame. When I saw Papa on his bike, wearing his revered jacket, I idolized his Captain America persona. More than anything in the whole world, I wanted to be just like him: I wanted to ride that motorcycle and earn a biker jacket of my own. Riding the motorcycle is the rite of passage in our family--the level of peak performance that only the best of the best can achieve. As the first of the next generation of motorcyclists, I wanted to
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