Personal Narrative Essay: The Road Trip To Yankton

Last year was my first year as a college student. After much anticipation, I was finally starting my university career and studying what I wanted. Classes started and everything was okay, but deep down I knew I wanted to study away from home. When graduating high school I had decided to stay, thinking it was the smartest decision since going to college is not the easiest transition and adding going to another country would have been too much for me. But two weeks into my first semester I decided to start my research.

Summer of 1994. New York City smelled no different than hot rat piss and looked accordingly. Fresh off my 15th birthday and wandering the Brooklyn streets with Hakeem, we followed the music wherever it played. Our community cherished music through constant airplay. Anyone with loud speakers, either in their car, apartment, or boombox, blared any of the anthems from the future greats. Whether it's Nas, Wu-Tang, Biggie, or Tribe, the list is blissfully endless. Hakeem’s brother, a well-connected music promoter, gave Hakeem two tickets to this secret show he was putting on for Ice Cube, who, despite being the first notable west coast rapper, carries a rage within him that the east coast entirely recognizes.

Anyway, we headed off on our journey to Six Flags, hour after hour It felt like a decade due to all of the crazy drivers and us being stuck in traffic because, some lunatic had hit a telephone pole! Anyway, we finally made It after 4 hours of being annoyed, bothered, nagged It was a really bad trip

It is about that day of the week again, Sunday. I woke up to the wooden planks used for the floor creaking as daddy went to wake Jonnie and Suzie up for church since Billy, Andrew, Holly and I have passed the age of twelve the expectation is to wake each other up or wake ourselves. That is the bad part about living in the New England colony, there is no sleeping in on a Sunday not just once. Also, we have to get up even earlier because we living in the middle of town and city. The year is sixteen-twenty, and at the moment we are living in Massachusetts, but daddy wants to move to Rhode Island because he says there tolerant- or something like that. Even though I really just want to sleep I know I have to get up and wake Holly, Billy,And Andrew.Daddy briefly told us about one of his

My mom always told me she felt comfortable in her dented-but-charming 2011 black Toyota Camry. I’ve never bought into the notion that a car could be a sanctuary, but she thinks of her car as a second home. She grew up in the San Fernando Valley of the 1980s, a mall-centric autotopia, so it makes sense. But, at twenty years old, it’s not the sort of mentality that I’ve grown to share.

I HATE snakes! I hate the way they move, I hate the way their tongues flick around. I just hate them! Why? Because bites hurt, so does being squeezed to death. I also have a passionate hatred for anything that slithers. So when we went hiking in Rock Creek one day, I almost had a heart attack. Literally.

Sometimes do you ever just feel like there is someone out there waiting for you, to change your life, but you just haven't met them yet? In a world with over 7 billion people that is often the case. Out of those 7 billion people about 10,000 of them live in a small suburb of Michigan called the East Bend. Sounds fancy huh? Well you could say that. About one half of our town is full of nice well kept homes owned by businessmen or doctors. Then one fourth is owned by those regular everyday cookie cutter type families. Then the remaining fourth are well the others. The weirdo rednecks who love four wheelin and cow kicking, or just that one family the whole neighborhood just stays as far away as possible from. I’m one of those well normal families.

The next morning, we got our briefing on how to pack up and prepare to leave. Our estimated time of departure would be 1600hrs, so we got started. We began disassembling everything and packing all the equipment into their containers, taking down tents and burning shit. Shortly after the lunch break, we were

Growing up on Long Island I’ve had the pleasure of being able to go into New York City whenever I want. Since the age of thirteen I have been traveling into the city to see my best friend Emily who lives on the Upper East Side. For the past six years I have acquainted myself with the local shops, and areas, in which she lives. Two years ago the city announced its plan to create a subway on 73rd street and Second Avenue. The address for the new subway is conveniently located where my friend Emily lives and has greatly impacted her local community.

There is one thing I would like to point out on a rest stop we went to. There was another RV there who was on their trip to the Midwest (I think they said . We were talking with them and Charlye who has a kind heart asked them if they would like our left over food. We explained we were headed home to Sacramento and would love for them to take the cans with them. They were more than happy to take what ever we could give them. Tommy and I were boxing up the food for them and discovered some sausages (3 packages) in the freezer that never was used and a quart of unopened ice cream. We decided to give it to them. We asked if we could pray for them for a safe trip (they were happy to know we are Christians). They left with smiles on their faces.

The blazing sun was just breaking over the horizon on this particular July day between my freshman and sophomore year. It bathed me in golden rays that warmed my skin. Despite this, a chill dripped down my spine, and my heart jittered about in my chest as my mom drove me toward the unknown and uncertain future. I was about to embark on a treacherous journey: a backpacking trip through the Colorado mountains. The car hurdled over the wandering asphalt until I arrived in a parking lot where an ominous white van waited to carry me toward my destiny.

Elizabeth and I make the bacon and coffee for breakfast. The boys went and got the livestock in their harnesses and ready to go. Everyone helps to pack up their stuff, and then we are ready to take off. We stop at lunch and supper time to eat. After supper our wagon train makes a circle, and we put the livestock in it to keep them safe. After all of the families are done eating supper we sing and dance with the other people. Fred Cox’s kids all play the guitar, so it was really fun to hear them play songs for us and all the kids to dance to.

Basically it boils down to sitting around a fire, resting tired bones from fishing and hiking, and drinking a few beers with

42 Trethosa Road, Round the Bend, begrudgingly named by my grandfather if only to humour the postman, is a two bedroom bungalow in a small Cornish village, sitting expectedly on the roads turning. A holiday destination to me and a home to my grandparents, this building is linked in its totality with my family. Designed by my great grandfather in 1966 and built over the following [INFO] by my grandpa to provide a home for his wife and [INFO] year old daughter, who had until then been living in a caravan on the site.

I look over at the GPS, and it showed we have 10 more hours. I rolled my eyes, and groaned, but always was kind of happy because we were halfway there. We stopped for a bathroom break in Virginia, then we were going non stop from there. I walk in and there was a Dunkin Donuts my favorite place on earth. I asked my parents if I could get it, they said sure. So I went in line, and ordered 2 large Iced Coffees, and a dozen donuts. We got back in the car, and started driving again. I got my phone and played some