Personal Narrative : My First Motorcycle

I started riding dirt bikes as a pastime when I was in junior high. As I improved on my riding skills, I realized that I wanted to excel in this activity, and began to see it

When I was in first grade I witnessed a motorcycle accident outside my elementary school. A man had been riding, without a helmet or jacket, and hit a bump. All I remember was the bike flying into the air then into a nearby front yard and the man disappearing. I was so close to it I could see everything that happened. Everyone started screaming and rushing around. The man had slid under a car that was pulling out of the school parking lot and was stuck under the rear wheel. Later I learned he had an acute subdural hematoma and the car was still on his chest. They tried to lift the car off of him, but he immediately started chocking on blood, resulting in them leaving the car on top of him until emergency response came. He was eventually taken to the hospital via helicopter.

The most outstanding moment of my life so far is when i got my first car.It was a cool March morning in Pensacola Florida.I had my drivers test at eight thirty in the morning at the DMV on W street.As i got to the DMV ,we checked in for my appointment we had made.Soon the instructor came out and told me it was my turn.As nervous but as ready as i could be,i followed him out to my car.After he checked to make sure all safety requirement were checked,i began my test.All i could remember was what my parents had told me.¨If you pass your drivers test you will get a car.¨.When i finished my test,i had only missed 9 points.So i went back into the DMV and took my picture for my license.On my way back home my mom said ¨we have something for you.¨.As

The first time I ever rode a dirt bike was when I was the age ten and then I never rode another one until I was fifteen years old. This is relevant because to learn how to ride a dirtbike takes time and help from others. My father had been riding dirt bikes and quads since he was a child, so when I needed help I looked up to him. I was clueless on how to operate a dirt bike until I asked my dad for help. Now I can ride a motorized bike with no problem!

way to get past the fear is to take a training course- You will learn to ride using our motorcycles on a

It all started when my track coach had said “You should go out for cross country next year.” I had thought about it long and hard because I’ve never pictured myself as a runner. So thought to myself and decided that I’m not a very good volleyball player and took the chance to join cross country at the beginning of my eighth grade year. At first it was a little weird and we had to run more distance than we did in track season. We ran about 3 miles and lifted after we arrived back at the school. Of course I was sore the next day because I was not in shape and haven’t ran since the beginning of the summer. After the first practice was out of the way, I had to sit and think about what I was doing. “I have to do this every day” I thought to myself. I was thinking about dropping out because the first practice was hard enough and doing it every day made me want to give up.

One day me and Ashton were dirt biking. I was beating Ashton all day. Ashton got so mad that he clipped my handlebars. I fell face first on the ground hitting my head so hard that I had to go to the clinic. But it was so bad that they thought I broke my neck. At first they were going to send me in an ambulance to Stanford Hospital. But then they thought I had broken my neck so they wanted me to fly in a helicopter all the way to Sanford hospital. But I didn't so my dad just took me home. Well back to the RV. When we came back I was still the best one there besides the adults. Booyah . Ashton got really mad. It was a really fun day after all.

During the summer of 2011, my father returned from Afghanistan. He saved some money while he was deployed and he took us to the motorcycle dealer to buy two 4wheelers for us. While at the dealer we picked the two 4wheeleres and loaded them in our trailer. We took them home, filled them with gas, and got ready for the next day. The next day, my dad, mom, my sisters, and I headed to Penrose, CO. Penrose is about 45 minutes from home. We went to Penrose Commons, an area that is open to the public to ride any off-road vehicles and motorcycles.

At sixteen, I received my first job, and by the age of seventeen, I purchased my first car. While the car was only worth about $200.00, I gave the seller $1200.00. Along with overpaying, the car did not have a title of ownership. When I first purchased this car, I had the understanding with the seller that the vehicle had a salvage title, but only a bill of sell was given with the car. However, this was still not my worst experience with this automobile. From the inside to the outside, to under the hood, and even on paper, this car was an illegally procured nightmare.

I got my horse when I was twelve for my golden birthday. Before I took my horse home, I went to where he currently was to learn how to ride and spend some time with him so we were both comfortable with each other. My first day there the woman I bought my horse from took me out to the pasture and told me to call his name, Kash. When Kash was the first of many horses to come up to the gate, I knew that he was going to be a great horse. Kash is a chestnut brown and his mane and tail are black, he has a white spot on his forehead and one of his ankles is completely white. The first of three days I did not ride Kash; however, I did groom him and repeatedly put on and took off his halter, bridle, and saddle. The purpose of this was for both Kash and I to get comfortable with each other and for me to learn how to do all these things since I had never been around a

The sun was beating down on me, sweat was dripping down my face and I was starting to fall apart both mentally and physically. It was actually a beautiful day - no clouds in the sky, a nice breeze, birds chirping. This day was the first day of cross country for me and I was behind everyone else. I was planning on playing soccer, but I did not make the team. That meant I was going to be a whole summer behind in my conditioning, and I was already feeling it. This day was just supposed to be an easy four mile run, yet I had to walk just halfway through it.

Imagine being on the back of an older brother's bike, arms hugging his chest tightly and flying down a hill, wind flowing through hair billowing out behind and lungs sore from shouting for joy. The next day is made up of begging for a bike and the passion to be the same one flying down that hill, wheels turning too fast to see and the landscape shooting by too fast to make out more than a blur. Soon, a bike is given with a bow on top, cherry red and oh, so beautiful. The next week is spent learning how to ride it; falling down, trying to balance, falling down again, and still, can't balance. Finally, enough practice allows the freshly polished cherry red bike to perch at the top of the hill, an eagle ready to fly, and then down it goes, seemingly soaring over the pavement.

The first time I rode a roller coaster I was 10 years old; it was the first time I had ever seen one I had felt petrified, my sister wanted me to ride that? She constantly taunted and teased me that I was too short to ride it bestowing the title of “best ride here and you can’t ride it” award, but this year I was finally tall enough. I remember seeing people from all walks of life different hair color, skin color, heights and ages all in line to ride this metal monster higher than anything I’d seen before. The heat was unbearable as it is every summer in Houston, and as we got closer to the coaster I could hear the screams and see the drop. My hands clenched the wood rails I had been holding on for dear life as to not get separated from my sister who was

With my town’s population of 12, I would think I would become fairly acquainted with the citizens of Bettles, Alaska, however I would soon find out just how incorrect I was. Biking home after a long day of work, I expected the same schedule of events as every other day: the Marcus family greeting me on their front porch, the town’s handy-man Michael Dunleavy persistently asking me if I needed any work done around the house, and Milton Hamlin, the decrepit military veteran, listening to his ancient record player that has been around since before any other of his neighbors were born. However, today was different; none of the aforementioned interactions occurred. Not seeing anyone was unsettling. Where was everyone?

New things to me always scared me away, and riding a bike was no exception at all. After I changed into my brother’s old racing clothes, I went outside to get on my bike. I was struggling to sit on the seat of the bike and keep it balanced. After, I finally got adjusted comfortably my father came over and handed me a helmet. He helped me get to the end of our bumpy driveway.