Night Time Tour

When the snow began to melt and the warming in the air began, I knew spring was coming. The cool breeze that came off the remaining snow left a crisp feel in the month of March. Spring break had finally come, and my step-mom and my father had planned a vacation to the beautiful Gulf Shores in Alabama. My level of excitement was overwhelming to go on this trip, not just because I was lucky to miss one day of school while returning home, but because I genuinely love the beach! Notwithstanding that I had never been to the Gulf of Mexico before, I pondered to myself if it would be more different than that of a beach on the Pacific Coast.

Then, through the ocean of green trees, I’m riding in the back of a dusty truck. My belongings of cheap furniture, books, and way too much clothes are packed into the bed behind me. The barely static radio is tuning in an out of a country station as I take in the environment around me, anxious for the next big step of my life. These two journeys in my life are vivid memories to me.

When the Weeping Willow trees became abundant around every sector of the car, I knew we were getting close. Once we passed the bridge by the small, grass bank called Cypher Beach, I could barely sit still in the front seat of my grandparents truck because I knew we were about to arrive. There I sat, waiting anxiously with my size ten feet smashed into a size seven foot box because if I removed them, I affected my grandfather's ability to drive and my grandmother’s ability to sit and look pretty. Even though the flip of the coin always caused me to sit in the front, compared to the comfy back where the other four children sat, it was all worth it when we arrived to our destination. The destination was just up the road, where we turned right

After traveling for 3-hours, my family arrived at our beach house in Ocean City Maryland. After making a quick trip for groceries, we decided to go to bed and set alarm clocks for early in the morning. After a good nights sleep, I woke up to the pleasant smell of bacon and eggs. After feasting on a delightful breakfast, my brothers and I began to get ready for the beach. We went down the creaky wooden stairs of our beach house and unlocked the storage room located beneath the home. I decided to carry both of the floral umbrellas while my brothers took the portable beach chairs. After grabbing all of our gear, we headed back up the weathered stairs and towards the distant sand dunes. As we approached the entrance of the sand dunes, the satisfying sounds of the ocean's waves started to become closer and closer. Once we traveled closer, the vivid orange sun began to ascend from the deep sea. At this early point in the morning, the sand walkway enclosed by

Three hours. Three long hours of driving is a long time when you are a little kid, who is always anxious to move around and release energy. The final road has arrived, one long dirt road snaking through the woods. Every year the familiar bumps in the road rattle the car as we make our way to the driveway of our cottage. Years have passed now and the outside does not look as run down as it used to, due to multiple improvements. Because I was that little kid, the need to jump out of the car and run around and stretch became a must. Jumping out of that car I remember exactly how the dark wood of the cottage seemed to melt into the woods when the sun went down. The scenery symbolized the first night of the family vacation. Even though I know the

I was sitting in the passenger seat of a Polaris Ranger, with my friends, having the time of my life. Ray driving, me in the passenger seat, and Cooper sitting in the back. We had been riding around for about 2 hours in the backwoods of the McGinty’s property. The sun was setting in the westward sky. I could just barely see it through the abundance of trees.

My eyes drifted to the worn tan leather passenger seat, but after a moment they shifted to the steering wheel and focused on the veining of the birds-eye maple. I often find myself staring at the wheel and thinking for five, ten, or maybe fifteen minutes. Sometimes I think about responsibilities or obligations, and other times, I use those five minutes as a time of tranquility. Every once in awhile, I try to envision how different my life would have been if my parents would have chosen to leave Clear Lake.

As the sun quickly rose over the visible horizon of the dark blue, brisk waters of the Atlantic Ocean in Palm Beach, Florida, John knew he was late as he threw his rod and tackle box onto his fishing boat. The boat had a navy blue hull with white and brown accents that emphasized the boat and on the side was painted “Sharon” in memory of his wife who had died the year before. He untied the cleats attaching his boat to the pier, started up the engine and as the exhaust filled the air, he set off.

Despite the fact that there is usually the typical Southern California weather, it was a chilly night out on the beach in July. I kicked up sand behind me not caring about anything. I had decided to stay behind after the bonfire we threw for Xander's birthday. My best pal, Jake was the designated driver this night and had to haul home drunk guys. Instead of hitching a ride, I decided to take a walk by myself along the waves. It was a calming time for me to collect my thoughts before senior year of high school started. I was doing my best to absorb the atmosphere around me. The sounds of the tides rising, the waves washing the sand off my feet, and the wind nipping at my red flannel. I was thinking about how I should bring Max ,my dog, here

The things to see along the endless sandy beach of Lincoln City. Such calmness fills you up, yet there is a lot that takes place at this resting-place. The salty air that fills your lungs, as you breath the clean air. It is more than just a stroll. It is the time of enjoying the wonderful creations that are present here on earth. As I kick the sand here and there, the moistness gives a trickling feeling down my spine and throughout my body, yet I still feel a sort of warmth inside of me. Each tide comes and goes washing up against my bare feet. The salty sting of the ocean reminds me of its strength. Wave after wave, towering over and over again, and again. The blue emerald liquid water with a foamy top, gets sent back and forth along the

Stepping out onto the beach one early morning I could hear the waves softly crash along the shore. Numerous birds nesting in the palm trees began to stir, and sing out early morning greetings. Although the sun had not yet come up, the beach was alive with surfers, like myself, preparing to some catch some waves. It was Christmas Eve, although at this Hawaiian beach it was a balmy seventy five degrees. I took in a deep breath, allowing the salty air laced with a smell of tropical flowers to fill my lungs. Wading out into the cool water, I hoped onto my board and paddled out farther from the shore to wait for the next big set of waves to come in. By this time, the sky had lightened up to a pale blue, but yet still streaked with the blackness

They would wait until it was dark, and then venture out onto the beach. Dad would barbecue cheap ribs and fresh corn, while her mother lit a stone firepit in the sand. Gwen was responsible for setting up the beach chairs, lining them perfectly along the lake shore. The water would be a hue of ominous green, almost hypnotizing as the waves shifted and stirred. It felt like even the moon wanted to take in the view, glowing as brightly as possible.

There was always a certain time we had to be back at the boat so we could leave. Bags of stuff filled our room with all kinds of things we had bought that day. The ocean was pretty when the sun hit it just right. It was just the time of day to play an enjoyable game of miniature golf. The wind was rapid, but it was cool outside. Colors of lavenders, violets, pinks, teals, and yellows filled the evening night. After a night of fun with dad, it was time to go to bed.

The sun peaked just above the horizon as we stared driving toward Myrtal Beach. I had hours of relaxing, distraction free time to knock out some summer reading. The drive felt pleasant and surprisingly short as we cruised past the South Carolina lowlands. The ocean smell wafted through the open windows of my mom’s Altima, and I was excited to soak my feet in the surf when we arrived.

The road can be a long as we’d want; we determine when to stop. There is something about the way an open road just allows the mind to feel free. The stress of the day is gone at the push of a pedal. The wind whipping into the open cockpit of the car. Driving is as if you are leaving the past behind you and moving towards a life, more enriched in memories. Colin Powell captures this feeling with “Always focus on the front windshield and not the rearview mirror.” The feeling that is acquired in awe inspiring, almost as if wings had sprouted from your back and can now take you anywhere.