Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Depressing the clutch with my left foot, I ease off the gas and slide the car into second gear. The car lurches forward and begins to pick up speed. As the engine rumbles, I am pressed firmly into my seat. The scene is idyllic, beautiful; palm trees rush by as the sun enshrouds them in the most brilliant of light. I am at ease, content, and my machine is in the most perfect of conditions, a beautiful beast with the -
A nut falls squarely upon my nose; I recoil, brought back to reality as I bash my head into the rusted undercarriage of a 1974 Alfa Romeo. Specks of ancient dust and grime rain upon me, covering me in a thin coat of dirt. As the pain radiates throughout my body, I am rewarded with a sense of clarity, and firmly grasping my socket wrench, I continue upon my task of unbolting the transmission. It is difficult work, in difficult conditions, yet I carry on in my endeavors. Under the car, I am alone, left to my own devices; free to think freely.
I am able to consider why the car is in its current broken state, and who's responsible for it. How in my mom's drug impaired state she destroyed the engine and abandoned the car on the side of a highway. I can recall the resulting repercussions, the tumult and the pain that came with this event. How my step-fathers and mother's relationship nearly fell apart. The incessant yelling and bouts of insanity that clouded the air are still vivid. But after a tense few weeks of awkward dinners, then came a brief respite of an awkward peace. Which during this time the car laid in the garage a derelict, a relic of a still warm war. Yet life continued on unabated, on a slow return route to normalcy.
Months come and went, without major incident, as I settled comfortably into junior year and the perks that came with it. But those memories are not what are most accessible as I lay under the Alfa, instead, I recall how suddenly, in a bout of selflessness, my mom admitted that she was still using. How next my mom was admitted into a rehab center, and how the waves of confusion that rebounded from the incident affected me. Seeking a form of escape, I teamed up with my step-dad (dad) and decided to work on the Alfa Romeo, something that we on our own could fix. Although progress was slow and setbacks numerous, the work brought my dad and I together. And, as my mom went through her recovery, there existed the constant of the car, and if nothing else, it would be in the garage, waiting for us.
Today, as the Alfa nears completion, my mom has neared the end of her recovery and has joined my dad and me in the garage. With the family more or less intact, perhaps my day dreams will soon become a reality.
Depressing the clutch with my left foot, I ease off the gas and slide the car into second gear. The car lurches forward and begins to pick up speed. As the engine rumbles, I am pressed firmly into my seat. The scene is idyllic, beautiful; palm trees rush by as the sun enshrouds them in the most brilliant of light. I am at ease, content, and my machine is in the most perfect of conditions, a beautiful beast with the -
A nut falls squarely upon my nose; I recoil, brought back to reality as I bash my head into the rusted undercarriage of a 1974 Alfa Romeo. Specks of ancient dust and grime rain upon me, covering me in a thin coat of dirt. As the pain radiates throughout my body, I am rewarded with a sense of clarity, and firmly grasping my socket wrench, I continue upon my task of unbolting the transmission. It is difficult work, in difficult conditions, yet I carry on in my endeavors. Under the car, I am alone, left to my own devices; free to think freely.
I am able to consider why the car is in its current broken state, and who's responsible for it. How in my mom's drug impaired state she destroyed the engine and abandoned the car on the side of a highway. I can recall the resulting repercussions, the tumult and the pain that came with this event. How my step-fathers and mother's relationship nearly fell apart. The incessant yelling and bouts of insanity that clouded the air are still vivid. But after a tense few weeks of awkward dinners, then came a brief respite of an awkward peace. Which during this time the car laid in the garage a derelict, a relic of a still warm war. Yet life continued on unabated, on a slow return route to normalcy.
Months come and went, without major incident, as I settled comfortably into junior year and the perks that came with it. But those memories are not what are most accessible as I lay under the Alfa, instead, I recall how suddenly, in a bout of selflessness, my mom admitted that she was still using. How next my mom was admitted into a rehab center, and how the waves of confusion that rebounded from the incident affected me. Seeking a form of escape, I teamed up with my step-dad (dad) and decided to work on the Alfa Romeo, something that we on our own could fix. Although progress was slow and setbacks numerous, the work brought my dad and I together. And, as my mom went through her recovery, there existed the constant of the car, and if nothing else, it would be in the garage, waiting for us.
Today, as the Alfa nears completion, my mom has neared the end of her recovery and has joined my dad and me in the garage. With the family more or less intact, perhaps my day dreams will soon become a reality.