Most Memorable Experience Essay, Research Paper My Most Memorable Experience The beaten up old Pontiac sputtered violently as we rolled leisurely out of our driveway. With my mom in the passenger seat and my dad behind the wheel, the front of the car was up with excitement for our trip to Arizona. My brother Allan was quietly asleep next to me, and as for my sister, Jacqueline, and youngest brother J.D.; they played quietly in the car.
Most Memorable Experience Essay, Research Paper
My Most Memorable Experience
The beaten up old Pontiac sputtered violently as we rolled leisurely out of our driveway. With my mom in the passenger seat and my dad behind the wheel, the front of the car was up with excitement for our trip to Arizona. My brother Allan was quietly asleep next to me, and as for my sister, Jacqueline, and youngest brother J.D.; they played quietly in the car. I sat quietly behind my mother, still delirious of the situation and dreading the long exhausting trip that I was to endure.
My lack of enthusiasm was due to my late bedtime the night before. I guess I was lucky to be a passenger in the car, and not the driver, as so I could “snooze” as my dad urged himself to go onward towards Arizona as he sat behind the car’s steering wheel. We had already been on the road for three hours now, and still not a peep out of anyone, except my youngest siblings whom were frolicking around together with their toys in the back of the car. My dad refused to stop for food until noon. It was 11:30, yet 30 minutes seemed like an awful long time and my stomach had been craving something, anything, for at least an hour. The hunger was uncontrollable, an almost eerie feeling, one you get before riding a roller coaster, came to me. No one else seemed to complain, so I attempted to ignore the issue by putting myself to sleep.
Over 45 minutes had past before I was awaken so abruptly by the grasp of my dad large hand on my shoulder. “Time for lunch!” quaintly said with a jolly cheer hidden deep in his voice. One after another we trickled from the car, emptying quite quickly. I took a large deep breath of what I assumed would be fresh air. Instead, I coughed. The air wreaked of exhaust and was dry, concentrated with dust. It was my fault I hadn’t observed the large sign reading “Trucking Pit Sto”. The letter “p” appeared to missing from the sign, and as I contemplated why, I walked slowly away from the car , still “hacking” and coughing. I was behind my family by quite a margin, so I picked up the pace, as to catch up with them.
Upon entering, a huge grown came over my face as my eyes filled with tears due to all the cigarette smoke. I continued to cough, but only at the horrid smell of diesel fuel and horrible B.O. that lurked around the truckers as they smoked away. My mother, still extremely quiet and holding close to her my brother and sister, gave me a look of fear and warning. I could understand how she felt, being among such a crowd of obese men made me feel uncomfortable too. I looked at the menu, which appeared to be covering with ketchup and stained with a white “goo”. No longer was I hungry, my stomach, so hungry before and crying for food had muted itself from disturbing me any longer.
After our “hearty” meal, we were beck on the road again; although I didn’t eat a morsel of food. As my stomach lingered for something to eat, I tried to endure the bumps on the road, which appeared to be endlessly leading us nowhere. Hopelessly trying to ignore the bumps that were aggravating me so much, I stared outside my window to find a cemetery of the poor bugs had begun to compile on my window. The desert was not at all appealing and the repetitive sight of brown rocks and dead plants made gave me a feeling of sickness and isolation. What kind of trip was this? Certainly not one to be remembered as a wonderful experience in my later “Golden Years” of life. Still suffering of boredom, I rested my head on the maroon colored headrest behind m in hopes of being able to sleep until out destination was reached.
My eyelids peeled open slowly, as I noticed that I was in a world of darkness. No longer was I in a cramped Pontiac with my head against a rough upholestied headrest, but I was now inside a room, with cool air, and a fresh scent of cleanliness blowing through my nose. “About time you came around sport…”, My dad said. I had no response, but lethargically moved to the window to find a beautiful view of Phoenix outside. The sight of the city gave me a sense of relief and comfort. Anything to be out of the car and off the road. Our vacation had finally started. Despite all of my complaining, I was in store for a good time while I was in Arizona.
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