Personal Narrative Essay : The Freedom Of Driving

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

It was a brisk foggy afternoon that was soon to turn to night. John had just waved by to all his friends at the party. It was a thirty minute drive home down some back roads in the country. Five minutes down the road it got dark and foggy, John was trying to get home as fast as he could safely. He was surrounded by open fields and corn fields on all sides. Then before he knew it his truck started to stall for an unexplainable reason. John immediately started to panic but tried to stay calm the best that he could. His truck came to a complete stop and there he was on a back road in the middle of nowhere. The only thing that he could see in front of him was a mailbox with a long drive with cornfields on both sides. John had no other option in the world

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.

I often get asked why I don’t drive and my simple response to those who ask is simply that I have no interest, which isn’t necessarily true. The real reason I cower away from what I consider to be a huge responsibility of driving is because I have witnessed firsthand the crippling effects cars can have on the fragile human life. In February of my senior on a day that I had just happened to be home from school I received a text from an unusual number it was my best friend’s brother who had texted me to inform me that his sister, a girl who was at my house five times a week, someone who was attached to my hip had been hit by a car. The text was simple and nonchalant which made me think it couldn’t have been too bad.

The first time I drove. So, my grandmother decided to risk here life to teach me to drive for only two blocks. And my grandmother was a horrible teacher because she is used to standard cars and not automatic, so she puts her feet on both the gas pedal and the brake. Anyways, I can't believe that the car seems to go so fast and I was only going 5 mph! And then, I didn't know how to brake and my grandmother almost hit her head on the dash! Luckily, we made it

My mom was fifteen when she received her permit because she took drivers training through West Noble School corporation. She was sixteen when she received her license, she went to Kendaville Bureau of Motor Vehicle. My mom said she was very nervous during the test. She missed a very easy question that asked "Is driving a right or a privilege." She remembers taking the driving part of the test in a very long motor vehicle , and not knowing if she would be able to parallel park in it. But she did pass the very first try to that was because of drivers training and her parents letting her practice on their vehicles. My dad was fifteen when he received his permit. He had never driven a vehicle before e received his permit. He was sixteen when he

Saturday had big plans with my family and didn't realize that I was supposed to go to azteca practice. I was so emotionally crushed I felt like my soul was being crushed by an evil elephant from hell, quitting was the only thing on my mind at that point. The drive there was so depressing i felt like eating a bullet just the thought of canceling my plans for this gave me aids the car drive there felt like it was in slow motion and the fact that my friend benito was driving made it that much worse since he drives slower than my grandma, it seemed like everything was black and white and the that was blasting in the car seemed nonexistent. once we showed up i regretted going just that much more since only about half the dancers even showed up I

“Come on honey, Kaylee is doing great at her driving! Come on and let her take you for a drive!” My dad said confidently.

As time went on, I would find myself driving more often and spending longer times behind the wheel. The looser restrictions on my license would allow me to do this. Driving myself to school and other activities that I was involved would become the norm. Even doing things like picking up siblings after school events became a task that I needed to

The car engine had a steady hum as I waited for my dad to enter the driver's seat. My sister-in-law was only eight months pregnant so I felt something was wrong when I was picked up early from school. The car ride to the hospital was the loudest silence I have ever heard. The sound of the wind as we flew down the winding highway was as loud as a train whistle. The sight of a gargantuan building protruding in the distance meant we were to arrive soon.

We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive. ..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about 100 miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"

There is something about driving fast around sharp curves while poorly belting the words to the popular song you hate, playing on the radio. Even more emotion determining hormones are released when the individual beside you harmonizes your toneless voice while tightly gripping the door handle. We were looking for the closest thing to peace, and found it somewhat by driving off the road and into an endless field. Alex rolled her window down and stared into the opaque air as if it would help her centralize our location. “Get out. Let’s go!” she told me, while climbing through the window to the roof of the car. With the radio still blaring, I met her at the top. We spoke of those things that made us happy, the memories making us sad, those stupid

There was always that one dream, a dream you wondered hours about when it would become true, one thought of you accomplishing it would make twinges of excitement flow through your body. Ever since my dad got me Need for Speed on my Xbox 360 for my 8th birthday, I have wanted to drive a real car. As a child, I would always yell at my dad to go faster. At that point of my life, everything was an ongoing race and thus, speed was the key. I had always begged my dad to let me steer the car but as always, I had gotten a disappointing answer. Finally, it was all a dream, turning 18, and getting a driver's license. How cool was it to drive your own car and go wherever you want? It was a whole new level of freedom and finally, after 18 years of dreaming

I was scared. I would have rather been on my two feet, than riding on the two wheels beneath me. Alongside me my brother held me up and pushed the bike and the boy along. He was all the training wheels I had and all the training too. The rusty maroon sixteen inch bike soon carried me over the field lanes of my parents' dairy farm without any assistance. Games of cops and robbers quickly followed, instead of using the brakes normally I dragged my feet on the ground. I soon joined my brothers in bike races and pop-a-wheely contests. This was my first experience driving, if you will allow me to call it that.