РефератыИностранный языкSlSlow Ride Essay Research Paper It was

Slow Ride Essay Research Paper It was

Slow Ride Essay, Research Paper


It was a long time coming,but it was here. I had finally gotten my licence,after what seemed like a millenium. My parents,quite happy for me,immediately relinquished their firm grasp on the keys to the sleek, black Acura parked in front of the house. And I politly pretended to heed their warnings of hazards on the road as I ran out the front door and hopped into the driver’s seat! There was no stopping me now, and I was off to pick up my friend Bob and two girls. This was to be a very memorable Friday night.


After picking up my pal Bob and the girls(whose names seem irelevant),we embarked on a night on the town. And I,wanting to show off my recently fashioned driving skills,was being a little “reckless”. There were no other cars around and I wanted to have some fun…and impress those girls in the back seat. I was pulling hand-brake turns,screeching the tires and driving on the wrong side of the road.


“I’m in England!” Bob would yell as he poked his head out of the sunroof.


Though I could barely hear him above the blaring music.


I felt care and worry free. We were headed for the first party of the school year, and rather quickly at that. I wa

s so preoccupied with the road and talking to my passengers that I didn’t notice the blue and red lights flashing in my rear view mirror. I kept driving until I casually glanced to my left to check my blind spot and spoted a police car containg a police officer who was signaling me to pull over. Dread and embarrasment overtook me as the officer approached the car. And all my friends had to say was “Great, now we’re going to be late!”


“Evenin’ son,” he said, “you know why I stopped you?”


“Yes sir, I believe I do,” I replied, trying to find shelter in my seat.


“You were going 80 in a 50 zone,” announced the officer, I’m going to have to give you a ticket.”


The T-Word. It felt like liquid nitrogen flowing down my spine. 5 Minutes later, I relunctantly took the ticket from the officer and pulled away at about 10 kilometres an hour. We went to the party, but for me it was just like being on death row…it was only a matter of time before I had to face the executioners.


The next morning I showed the ticket to my parents. They didn’t take it so bad, just a lecture about responsibility and yada,yada,yada. A few hours later I was out the door again, and I was off to buy a bus pass.

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