Driver-Personal Narrative

I remember it like it happened yesterday. It was a warm sunny day on October 27 2013, and we were driving to my sister Amy’s house in Kaukauna. We had to drop off a set of bunk beds at her house for my niece Mia. My dad, mom, my sister Anna, and I were all in one car, while my two brothers, Andrew and David, were in the Ford Ranger ahead of us. We were having fun in the car, talking, laughing and listening to music, until we came up on a yield sign. My brother Andrew proceeded through it first, when a black Envoy came speeding around the corner, too fast to slow down. When Andrew saw it coming he tried to swerve, but the car was going too fast, and it was too late. The car hit the truck,

yelled as he pulled me up. Right as I looked into his deep blue eyes, I felt like I was in one of the cheesy romantic movies. It felt as though there was a spotlight shining on us, and we were the only ones in the world.

I hate driving. I have some trepidation about using that word but hate is due where it’s due. And I hate driving. It might have something to do with the fact that no matter how good a driver I am, my safety is still in the hands of some over-confident twenty-something who is texting, eating, and driving simultaneously. Or maybe it’s the environmentally driven guilt I have while pumping gas. Either way, I just really don’t like driving. But, it was driving that made me realize I felt like an ant. I was in the left turn lane on my way home from a hot afternoon of summer band. The little green traffic arrow lit up and, much like ants following the instruction of a pheromone, we swung our metallic bodies in the instructed direction of travel and

As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn 't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn 't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the

I approached the vehicle and asked MD why she was driving without someone 21 years of age in the vehicle and she informed me that she just wanted to hang out with friends and watch the fireworks. I asked MD if anyone in the vehicle had consumed alcohol and she told me no.

It's Friday, March 25 in the morning at about 7:00 am when my mom wakes all of us up to get ready to leave. On the way to Minnesota we were driving, but still in suamico, we stopped at a Kwik Trip gas station to fill up the tank. We all were thirsty so we got a water from the cooler in the back of the truck, but my brother Roy spilled his all over himself and on the seats.”Good thing it's just water.” My mom said. As we drove across the imaginary line splitting Wisconsin with Minnesota there was a big rock carved into the shape of Minnesota that said, “Welcome To Minnesota.” When we were on the highway we almost got into two major accidents, the first one was when we had an open lane ahead the driver to the right of us tried coming into our lane right next to us and put our left two tires

I was driving blind tucked in the seat of a tank with only my head peaking out. We had our lights of for tactical purposes and my section leader, staff sergeant Watkins was up top with a pair of night vision goggles directing me over the head set. The brisk night air rushing across my face was the only indication that we made any headway into the night. The emptiness absorbed even the ground rushing by closest to me. Only the occasional rabbit fleeing from beneath the rampaging behemoth broke the stillness of the inky surface. Stretched out across the landscape like fingers lurching forth from some abysmal hand hidden in the sky our platoon wheeled forward. Unilaterally wielding this hand was our first sergeant Gargard.

On October 31, 2017, my mom expected me to be home by 12:00am. I was driving at night and noticed that I was only forty-five minutes away. I thought about taking a shortcut through the woods. The roads appeared to be working after being reconstructed. The only thing that caught my attention was a sign. I looked at the sign and noticed that I had to be careful of how I drive. I normally drive 60 mph on highways. Sometimes, I go faster than that. I took exit 240 to get home. Ten minutes later, another sign appeared. On this sign, it mentions construction ahead. Since the road was fine, I thought it would not matter. I drove straight down the road without being nervous. I suddenly had a phone call from my mother. She asked, “Where are you?” I told her that I was only ten minutes away.

As May came to an end and the temperature started to warm up, but winter’s presence lurked. Seventeen years old, too old to be without a license, I was almost finished with my junior year of high school. Since my parents wanted to be certain I was well prepared and had enough experience under my belt to be driving alone on the open road, a learner’s permit was in my possession for far longer than the required time. All the requirements to take the license test were exceeded and I was thoroughly prepared. It was now time for me to validate my skills on the official test course. However, obtaining my license proved difficult, but resilience in the face of failure cultivated success.

It was a cold rainy night much like any other until we pulled up at a stoplight and all the sudden the unthinkable happened. All the sudden my car was propelled forward with so much force I had no idea what just happened. I was so shaken it took me a minute to realize what happened, my mom was yelling at me thinking I had hit something but it was the other way around. I had just been rear-ended.

Drivers Ed is almost done for me. Hallelujah! It’s not that I don’t like the class itself or the teacher, it’s just the fact that it is twice a week for three hours. I understand that we have to have a total of 30 hours in the classroom, but that’s so long! It takes up a lot of time that I could spend doing other things, such as going to practice for the musical.

Over the summer, a group of friends and I saw what would become one of my favorite movies, Baby Driver. In it stars Baby, a quiet young man who serves as the talented getaway driver for a group of bank robberies. I immediately took an interest in the movie when I saw the trailer, but more specifically, the titular character, Baby. In almost every scene of the film, Baby is seen listening to music on his iPod. Often times, this reflects the mood he is in or what is happening in his surrounding environment. He does this to drown out the tinnitus he received from a car accident when he was younger.

My hands were gripped so tightly to the wheel that they started to sweat, I put pressure on the gas pedal and drove off. It had been a long hard soccer practice. Constant running and jumping and my legs were exhausted. I opened the door of my dad’s BMW and jumped into the backseat with my younger brother Oliver. Beginning to take off my soccer cleats and shin guards, I was telling my dad about how cool my learner’s permit looked and felt. We were going home our usual route on K7 highway when all of the sudden my dad exited the highway onto College Boulevard. Oliver and I turned to look at each other, wondering why he was going home a different way. My father turned around and said, “Hop in the driver’s seat Jos.”

The man outside the car. Beard unshaved, teeth yellow, shirt bright red, hair unbrushed, but all went unnoticed with the shiny piece of metal he was waving at us. Time froze, just at the sight of the gun made my parents freeze, I was a clueless two-year-old. The only worry in the world is when the next time I’ll get a happy meal. But I am not the child in the backseat anymore, I am the mature, teenage girl in the driver seat. I get it, the guy was scared, his actions were him showing fear. But we have nothing to fear but fear itself.

I turned up the volume in my headphones as my sister, Amelia’s annoying voice sang louder as one of her favorites, but otherwise a terrible song began to play on the car radio. All I could think was just how much longer I would have to be in the car with her, I was ready to get out and stretch anyway, we’ve been in the car for nearly 3 hours. I knew that I would have to suck it up and deal with it until we got there, until then I would just have to keep quiet, saying something would only encourage her to sing louder. I started dazing out of the window thinking about our destination, we were headed to my great grandfather's house to try and clear out all of his belongings in order to sell the house after his recent death. His death didn’t affect