Personal Narrative: My First Time Driving

I remember it like it happened yesterday. It was a warm sunny day on October 27 2013, and we were driving to my sister Amy’s house in Kaukauna. We had to drop off a set of bunk beds at her house for my niece Mia. My dad, mom, my sister Anna, and I were all in one car, while my two brothers, Andrew and David, were in the Ford Ranger ahead of us. We were having fun in the car, talking, laughing and listening to music, until we came up on a yield sign. My brother Andrew proceeded through it first, when a black Envoy came speeding around the corner, too fast to slow down. When Andrew saw it coming he tried to swerve, but the car was going too fast, and it was too late. The car hit the truck,

yelled as he pulled me up. Right as I looked into his deep blue eyes, I felt like I was in one of the cheesy romantic movies. It felt as though there was a spotlight shining on us, and we were the only ones in the world.

Usually as a sophomore in high school we experience one of the most exciting things, driving. The minute one turns fifteen and a half we race to the DMV, take the test, and get our temporary licence. This is where we spend the next half a year in a car with our parents, practicing and being told everything to do and not to do.

I can remember how excited I was when I bought my very own first car. I spent hours and hours fixing up my car exactly how I wanted it. I waited a very long time to buy my own car. I worked for hours and hours, saving money to buy a good running car. I did not want to buy a cheap car. I wanted to buy one I know would last and didn’t have anything more than minor mechanical problems, if any. I knew if I bought one of the streets it was bound to come with something needing to be repaired or replaced. Having proper maintenance done to the car was also my way of guaranteeing my car would at least run okay for a little while. My first car was a 2002 Hyundai Sonata featured with 19’ black rims, with clean interior and dark tinted windows. The sound system was in great condition and for it to be stock, had a really nice bang to it. I absolutely loved my car, It felt so nice and I

I was 10 years old when I began to drive on my own and was 16 years old when I first drove by myself. It was great and one of the best things to ever happen in my life. When I was a little child I would be sitting in my mom or dads lap holding on to the steering wheel because I couldn’t reach the gas petal. As I was getting older my dad started teaching me how to drive by myself. The first time I did it by myself I didn’t know how to make the car go forward or backwards.

I hate driving. I have some trepidation about using that word but hate is due where it’s due. And I hate driving. It might have something to do with the fact that no matter how good a driver I am, my safety is still in the hands of some over-confident twenty-something who is texting, eating, and driving simultaneously. Or maybe it’s the environmentally driven guilt I have while pumping gas. Either way, I just really don’t like driving. But, it was driving that made me realize I felt like an ant. I was in the left turn lane on my way home from a hot afternoon of summer band. The little green traffic arrow lit up and, much like ants following the instruction of a pheromone, we swung our metallic bodies in the instructed direction of travel and

I got my dog almost one year ago. We got him on november second 2014. Me and my sister had begged our parents to get us a dog but they kept saying no. THe day that we ended up getting him my parents just said that we were going camping. They said we were going camping in a cabin a few miles from Bend Oregon.

As I walked out of the courthouse and down the ramp, I looked at my mom in disappointment and embarrassment. Never wanting to return to that dreadful place, I slowly drug my feet back to the car. I wanted to curl up in a little ball and I didn 't want anyone else to know what I had done. Gaining my composure, I finally got into the car. I didn 't even want to hear what my mom had to say. My face was beat red and I was trying to hide my face in the palms of my hands because I knew what was about to come; she was going to start asking me questions, all of the questions I had been asking myself. Sure enough, after a short period of being in the

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 opened the doors and walked into the building where a young, peppy lady sat at the wooden desk in front of me and excitedly greeted me saying, “Hi! Can I have your name please?” It was the day of my driving test and my nerves are getting to me more than ever before. The words “Andrew Tenore,” came out in a sputtery mess. “Thank you, take a seat. Goodluck!” she called. There was a couple other people waiting with me, all with the same blank, distressed face as myself. As I sat there, for what felt like forever, I began to have thoughts about how this test could go.

At the age of 17 all I could think about was having a car. However, I understood that owning a car, I would be required to have a job. This would allow me to pay for insurance, gas and maintenance issues. I also understood buying a car required me to have a driver license. After taking all the necessary steps to purchase my first car. The very first car I bought was a “lemon”.

It was the summer before college around February. When I got my first car, a 2001 Honda Civic This car was something special to me because not only was it my first car but it has yet to break down on me. I've had a little issues here and there, but it gets me where I need to go. One day I went over to my dads to get my brakes fixed and I had the perfect breaks afterwards. But it wasn't installed 100% correctly. On one of my front brakes he forgot to put a brake pad in between the rotaries and the metal. So it was being chewed out because metal was rubbing against metal. The sound of the metals rubbing together was like a cannonball being scraped on concrete. So about a month after the excruciating noise I decided to stop by tires plus to