Personal Narrative: New Ford

Most people are all grown up when they finally figure out what they want to do with their life. I was 4. I realized what I wanted to be when I attended my very first Rodeo. Even though it was so long ago I can remember that day like it was yesturday. That day got me on the path to my future.

My eyes peeled open slowly and the bright sunlight flooded into my eyes, blinding me. I heard the sound of running water and felt the cold breeze flow over my body. I looked out of my hammock and in front of me was a beautiful waterfall and several towering, bright green trees. My friends whom were with me shortly awoke and we packed our things and set off on our first true day of hiking in the Appalachian mountains.

Minutes to get there, and the whole 30 minutes was boring. I was ready to sleep; I was also super hungry, I was so excited I was about to burst. I had a fear about a few rides, but i didn’t let it overcome me.

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

The mountains were tall (11,000 feet +) and covered with bright powdery snow. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I was eager to set-up camp and prepare for our nine day hunt. But, Dad said that we had to drive around and check out all the good places, just to make sure that we were in

Cue the opening scene: A young girl sitting too close to the television set staring at a fuzzy VHS copy of Rear Window in a room full of vintage videos tapes and outdated floral wallpaper. The little girl is eight year old me, and the room is my grandparents’ home movie theater. I admit I was slightly romanticized by the grainy picture quality in a way that was indescribable; hypnotic would be the closest description of the unearthly feeling that submersed me.

As far as true passions go, I've always worried about being a lousy artist. This was evident in the time I was assigned to design my team's logo for our Race Car Club's first competition. Graphic design was untouched territory for me along with leadership as I was not only the artist of this club but also the president.

Last summer I wanted to work and earn a little cash and distract myself and not be home all summer. I didn't know where to apply so I applied everywhere I was even open to working in the fields my parents told me that the fields were the last place they ever wanted me to work. My mom and step dad Raul always told me that field work wasn't easy and that it was not for me but I didn't listen.

I felt the bumping and heard the bus frame squeal quietly as we were on the journey to destination. We were in Detroit, Michigan for a mission trip. It was a new place full of new things for me to experience. And the most eye-opening experience for me was when we helped a neighborhood clean out a disastrous and neglected alley.

At approximately 2300 hours I heard a loud crash somewhere outside of my apartment building. I went out on the patio, looked around outside and saw a car stopped by the east entrance gate. I went outside to the gates and saw a black SUV stopped in the driveway, just inside the entrance gate. The car had a flat right front tire and damage to the right front quarter panel. I then looked at the entrance gate and saw the gate had been broken off its hinges and stuck in the open position. The reflective cross bar was stuck in the down position.

A nanosecond before he pulled the trigger, I saw Dad glance my way. To avoid collateral damage, he decided to forgo the flamethrower and just cut the man down to size with his patented silent glare. When we drove past, he was leaning leaned out the window, (remove comma) and said to the man, "You should be ashamed of yourself!" To make his point, he mashed his foot to the floor, spun the wheel and gunned the Volkswagen as well as it was possible to gun a twenty-four horsepower engine. The Volkswagon Volkswagen (I find it interesting that he owned a German-made vehicle) echoed his irritation;, (replace comma with semicolon) its exhaust spat out a blat, blat, blat, blat when it spun around the truck in a vortex of flying gravel then trailed a gray cloud of dust behind

The decisions we make and the actions we take have voiced our characters for us, and our spoken words have exposed our perceptions. At one point or another in everybody’s life, one will strive to become someone, to make something of him or herself. One is limitless in what one can evolve into, but how to get there is another matter. The destination is just that: a destination. There is no significance to a station if there is no link to it. Therefore, the result is no result if there is no way to reach it, and so Willa Cather had once said, “The end is nothing; the road is all.” And I am inclined to concur with this writer.

I started up my car, just like any other normal day. Just a normal day I told myself, a normal day. I forgot the gift I bought for Lindsey, which I had been meaning to give her, but she hadn’t been to work for a couple days. I quickly hopped out and grabbed it. It was a T-Shirt of her favorite band, Green Day. As the traffic sauntered along at the normal traffic jam pace, acting like they had nowhere to be, my hands grew sweaty and my stomach twisted into knots. My hand slipped as I was turning and I almost lost control of the car. Just a normal day. I tried looking in the glove compartment for a couple smokes before work, but found my gun. The power such a small thing contained. The ability to take someone’s life, silence them forever. It felt too powerful. That’s why I have to carry one. We all carry one, but so do they.

This personal essay is going to be on my crazy drive to Vermont. Well it all started off with my cousin Max waking me up at 7:00 am.

My 2006 Ford Escape is a piece of highly extensive technology that I depend on daily. I use my Escape to get me from place to place; efficiently, quickly, and safely. I use my Escape to drive to different locations and these locations are not within a reasonable walking distance from my house. Just to get to York Technical College in Chester, takes me about 30 minutes. If the driving time to go to school is 30 minutes, then any other mode of transportation such as biking or walking, would feel close to impossible. Walking or biking (and I mean biking as in pedaling your own body weight on an aluminum frame and 2 wheels) is exactly what I would have done if I did not have my Escape. My Escape is the perfect example of how a system, or