Go-Karts Descriptive Writing

It was high noon, the sun was shining, there was a breeze that made you feel like falling to the ground in a pile of dandelions. Bernard Walton and Eugene Meltsner decided too take a road trip that day. They had been best of friends since they were both little, and thought that they would have a good time on this road trip. But all of that changed on that very day...

We met out at the car. Bruce Jenkins, a St George attorney and the dad of our teammate, Jamie, was the driverwaiting outside that night. to drive us home. We loaded up, stopped off at wWendy 's to all have a quick dinner and then we getot on the road backfreeway to St. George. It was sprinkling rain a little bit, but not too much. It had lightly snowed the night before so temperatures were cold and dropping fast. We try to leave quickly after practice so it doesn’t get much later than it already has to be traveling the 45 miles back home. Jamie sat next to her dad, in the front seat. and Tthe 3 of us sat in the back of a white suzuki jeep blazer , with Keesha and Jodi sharing a seatbelt in the middle as we were

While we sat in our rambling tan and yellow cabin among the trees at 416 Spencer Falls Lane at Big Bear Lake, we watched the gloomy rain fall all morning long. Finally, the storm passed and the dark gray clouds passed over, the sun shone brightly on the wet grass. Yes, the day soon was as pleasant as any other august day, of course we knew it was frequently the case with a warm summer rain. This time, however, the rain had swelled the river washed away our small wooded bridge. Elaine my youngest sister sat beside the washed out bridge, she was so unhappy because it was loss. It was then that a shiny blue convertible drove up beside her, the four of us, our names are: William, Martina, Ella and David, watched as the car approached, it was around

It was a fine, summer, Saturday when everything changed for a young teenager named Miller Frederick. School had already started for Miller and he was at a new school. That summer, his family had moved from Pensacola, Florida to Dewitt, Michigan so Miller didn’t have many friends. He lived in a very rural area so he didn’t have many neighbors he could hang out with. Miller had just gotten back from his first day at his new school and he became friends with another new kid from Germany. His name was Reginald Kleinhans. Surprisingly enough, they had a lot in common. They both loved basketball, horror movies, and writing.

Girls perch on the tables like exotic birds gossiping and giggling, a football fly’s above their heads between two jocks in varsity jackets parading their toned muscles. Groups of high schoolers sit around the room laughing. Weekend has arrived and the hallways of the school were filled with tons of kids ready to go home. Every ear filled with the sound of multiple conversations going off at once, lockers opening and closing, music blasting without. I had managed to push past the constant stream of children and to the school field. The grass was damp and covered in a thin layer of frost. As I walked my footprints were embedded, leaving a piece of me in the cold ground. I saw my friends faraway chattering and fooling around. I was stuck in the wrong crowd; they are nothing like me but somehow I am still friends with them. I slowly made my way up to my “so called friends”.

It was the Saturday before the last week of first grade and my family and I were attending a kickstart into summer barbecue at Scott Shaw’s house. Accompanied by my mother, father, brother, and my father’s 20 plus mountain biking, “crunchy granola” friends and spouses, we all arrived with summer’s approaching warmth on our faces. Everyone shoveling food into their mouths, playing ping pong, pool and swimming, everything was going smoothly.

It was an ordinary day in new york, People going to work, birds chirping to indicate that fall had just sprung. A normal tuesday, the sun rising, another ordinary school day at central queens junior high, but not for Robert. Robert had snuck out of school, and he had found out that a couple of his friends were sick. He invited them over and one of his best friends, Alex came over. Robert and Alex played down at the park where they had met up with one of Alex’s friends, Jacob. They hung out until it was time to go back over to Robert 's house, when his new acquaintance Jacob said,

Initially; when I became aware of my surroundings, the driver of the other car was at my side asking if we were okay. My friend was screaming, her face was covered in blood. The rearview mirror was missing, windshield and driver side window shattered and

Starting off with a picture of how days were when she experienced her fifth-grade summer, the author adds in details that seem so minuscule, and unimportant to set the setting. The information about the cost of riding a trolley and the ice truck driving around on a hot day with blocks of ice provides the readers with the background of her story. In addition, by using diction that the author used as a child, such as “that-old-thing” and “help-him-out,” she brings the story to life as if it were still the 1900s. Every tiny detail that the author remembers about her childhood shown in this passage proves to the readers how important her fifth-grade summer was to her.

We were out of the car and all I hear is a ringing but also my mom crying and asking if we were okay. We were fine, just bruised up and scratched up. A man stopped and had called the police right after it happened. We all sat at the corner looking at the car just sitting on its roof and thinking all it over in our minds. The police officer showed and we showed him our I.D’s. He checked the car to make sure gas wasn’t leaking for a potential explosion. We told him that a deer jumped off the hill and we swerved and rolled the car. He wrote a fine to my ex, and we all piled into the small car we were originally suppose to ride in. Just thinking about what happened was hard, it all happened so fast I couldn’t remember. At first, I thought I had a concussion but I was still coming down from an adrenaline high.

That day had concluded just as all others had in the days gone by; my mother was driving my brother Cole, my sister Jada, and me home from school during a frigid snowstorm while my father was at home with my second brother Bobby. My dad materialized what time it was and that we were rushing home from school, for this reason, he called and advised us that the road was unacceptable for driving; consequently, forced to stay at a motel in Eagle Butte. At the same time, my grandfather was driving home from Pierre. Cell phone service on South Dakota State Highway 63, the road home from Pierre, is intermittent, at best, so my father could not reach him. My grandfather did not know the road conditions were deteriorating the closer he got to home.

Matt Arena was lying under a tree near the Blue Hills in Boston on a sunny afternoon. This might be his last chance to enjoy the tranquility of this place. Soon, this mountain range and park would be transformed into a chain of business offices overrun by politicians. It was also his last day of summer and seventh grade. Most kids would have spent this last day finishing their packets or playing video games, but he finished his packet the first week into summer. He would rather spend his time enjoying nature than playing video games on the last day of summer.

Minutes before, Marty Gra and I were leisurely strolling away from my house. The heat throughout the day made riding almost impossible, so we had to postpone until dusk when the temperature dropped. We rode down from my barn, past my house, and down the trail to the plain to begin our ride. I was wary about the creatures living in my backyard. I knew there

It was just the beginning of February. The winter cold, brutal, and yet normal for the people living in Michigan. My best friend Brian, his uncle Craig, and I were driving back together from Craig’s up north cottage. Brian and I were riding passenger with Craig in his Chevy Silverado pick-up. We were coming back from the annual Perchville Polar Bear Plunge that took place in Tawas, Michigan. A lot was on my mind since it was the second semester of my senior year, and graduation was right around the corner. I had no idea what I wanted to do, or where my future would take me.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.