Creative Nonfiction Essay
This assignment is an essay that explores an event in the past month of my life using descriptive language to paint a picture in the readers mind. I chose to tell the story about my friend James and I who go on a joy -ride in my uncles car when we are supposed to be dog sitting.
DRAFT #1
|
Nick Paschall
ENG 100 Essay #1: Creative Nonfiction Due: 3/3/15 Road Rage “80, 90, 100, 110, 120 miles per hour, holy shit!” “Dude, this is insane!” I started to slow back down to the speed limit, my heart was racing and my knuckles were white from squeezing the wheel so tightly. I looked over to my friend James in the passenger seat, who was laughing from pure excitement. It took a moment to process how fast we were going and I began to let out a nervous and adrenaline induced cackle. “This car is so nice!” James wasn’t lying. Earlier that day I could not help myself from drooling over its sleek and powerful body. I looked around a little. Smooth, black leather cascaded through the inside of the car. The seats were more like thrones crafted for kings. The white stitching weaved and flowed down and around the edge of the seats, tracing its every curve. I look up. Suede, are you kidding me?! The ceiling was covered in it front to back only broken up by two separate sun-roofs. It was mean and angry on the outside, but welcomed us as guests in a five star hotel once inside. It was a dramatic combination of beauty, luxury and power and I was in control of it. I looked in the rear view mirror, paranoia was starting to set in and visions of a cop car jumped in my head, but were quickly escorted out by the sound of all 550 horses hard at work hauling down the freshly paved highway. I gripped the steering wheel tighter once more. My knuckles growing whiter the farther down I pushed the pedal. I floored it and we shot back into our thrones as the gravitational forces worked its magic sucking us deeper into the seats. Tunnel vision began to set in and everything around me became obsolete except for me and the road. The street was starting to look more and more like a runway as I quickly accelerated up past 100 miles per hour and then coasted back down to 65 MPH. I started to cackle again, only this time there was no sense of being nervous, just adrenaline. I loved it. I loved every aspect of it. The sense of enjoyment and kid-like amazement caused me to grin ear to ear. I looked over to see my copilot with the exact same grin. We had no worries at this time. There was no stress of getting school work done, going to work, or dragging the trashcans to the curb. It was just us and the beast. I began to fiddle with all the buttons and controls which were nothing short of a NASA control board. Each individual button was something different from traction control to the massaging chairs. Stopped at a red light I decided I would scroll through the different driving modes, until my eyes lay upon the holy grail of buttons. There were no words on this button and no color, just a little checkered flag screaming my name. I pushed it down and nothing happened so I tried a couple more times and still nothing happened. I was a little bit let down until I had an idea. This time I held down the button. Five seconds into holding down the button something glorious happened. The entire dashboard changed its color from a luxurious calm blue to an electric red. A little note appeared in the bottom of the electronic speedometer that read “Track mode enabled.” I couldn’t believe it. I had only heard about track mode on top of the line cars like Mercedes, Aston Martin, and Maserati. It had never dawned on me that the Jaguar XJ would have one. “dude…did you just put it into track mode?’ James asked apprehensively. I couldn’t contain myself. “Yeah, man! I didn’t even know it had a Track Mode!” Suddenly I had a use for the paddle shifters that were sitting precisely behind the steering wheel, which were also covered in black leather. I couldn’t wait any longer. I hit the gas and could feel the difference immediately. I roared through first gear hitting the right paddle shifter which launched us into second gear. I ripped through second gear not taking my foot off the gas for even a second, and once again hit the right paddle shifter up to third gear. There was no luxury anymore, no more sense of being pampered like kings, this was raw power. We were quickly making our way up through fourth and fifth gear hitting close to 140 mph. The now red dashboard illuminated my face making my ear-to-ear grin look as menacing as possible. I briefly looked at James whose eyes were screaming slow down, but our matching grins said otherwise. I continued swerving in and out of lanes like a mad man getting honked at from what felt like everyone. I deiced to put it back into the fuel economy mode. I could not care less about the honking or angry gestures being thrown my direction. This was living in the moment, and it was beautiful. I had found my inner peace and it was in the form of a supercharged five liter 550 horsepower V8. My moment of nirvana was broken by James. “You know that if he finds out we took his car, your uncle is going to kill us.” Shit. I had almost completely forgotten about my uncle. “Yeah what time is it?” “Its 12:45” My stomach dropped and my hands were starting to become clammy. How had I lost track of time this bad? My uncle would be home in 15 minutes and we were 25 minutes away. I was panicking and my heart rate was slowly increasing with every thought of my uncle kicking my ass. He was a short bulky guy with a small fuse, and in fact I probably had a good four or five inches on him. His bald head and five o’clock shadow was somewhat of a look he had trademarked since I can remember. Although I had the height advantage this man was a body builder and briefly played in the AFL before ending his career to become a neurologist. He still lifted weights every day at the age of 65 and as far as I could tell he was in better shape than me. My diet of beer and cigarettes was starting to seem like a bad idea when faced with the possibility of having to defend myself from my uncle. “He’s going to be home at one o’clock” I said nervously James replied with not a scent of being anxious, “Well shit, at least now we have a reason to drive like maniacs!” Duh! What the hell was I freaking out for? I could easily get us back before he got dropped off. I put track mode on and we were off to the races. Not one word was exchanged between me and James on that ride back and not even the radio was playing. Taking every possibility I saw to pass a car or two I began to weave in and out of lanes again as if the brake pedal was nonexistent. We got off the highway and from there it was a straight away for about 3 miles with one right turn. Ripping through third gear I sucked us into the back of our seats again. I glanced down at the speedometer and saw the needle touching 100 MPH. My best friend “Track Mode Enabled” was in the bottom right corner laughing with us as we made the sharp right turn onto my uncle’s street. I made the final turn into the driveway and let out one final cackle as my adrenaline rush had come to an end. We made it. I set the seat back to my uncle’s settings and sprinted into the house with James right behind me. My uncle did not get home for another 30 minutes. He walked in the house after getting dropped off by his friend. He suspected nothing as we helped him carry in the groceries and beer he had gotten us for watching his dogs. For the rest of the day I could not help but laugh every time I walked past the garage door. |
Draft 2
In this draft I decided that I would add a couple more paragraphs to help contextualize the situation better. The paragraphs help explain why i was at my uncles and how we got the car. |
Nick Paschall
ENG 100 Essay #1: Creative Nonfiction Due: 3/3/15 Road Rage “80, 90, 100, 110, 120 miles per hour, holy shit!” “Dude, this is insane!” I started to slow back down to the speed limit, my heart was racing and my knuckles were white from squeezing the wheel so tightly. I looked over to my friend, James, in the passenger seat who was laughing from pure excitement. It took a moment to process how fast we were going and I began to let out a nervous and adrenaline induced cackle. The car we were sitting in was a Jaguar XJ and the reason my laugh sounded nervous was because it was not my car and we were definitely not supposed to be driving it. I was supposed to be dog-sitting that day for my uncle Bob and watching the Flyers game. Luckily he had suggested that I invite a friend over since I would probably be extremely bored. I called a few people, but just about all of them were busy working or had prior commitments except for my friend James who I had only become recently close with over the last year. We shared mutual friends and each had an unhealthy obsession with the Flyers. So naturally when I told him my uncle was going to buy me a case of beer for the flyers game he jumped on board. I hadn’t started that day with the intentions to go on a joy ride, but I just couldn’t resist. We had walked the dogs right when we got there, fed them, played with them and they were asleep soon after. By the time we had finished with the dogs my uncle was out with his friends running errands and doing whatever it is that 65 year old men do for fun. Then an idea jumped in my head as I walked past the kitchen window. That car looks fun to drive, I thought to myself. I knew my uncle would never let me drive it in his life, but I also knew he kept the keys in the top drawer next to the dish washer. I understood the risks, but I also understood how much fun I could have in that car. Rational decision making was quickly thrown away as I yelled to James we are going for a ride. With no hesitation James hopped off the couch and followed me through the kitchen where I grabbed his keys. “This car is so nice!” James wasn’t lying. Earlier that day I could not help myself from drooling over its sleek and powerful body. I looked around a little. Smooth, black leather cascaded through the inside of the car. The seats were more like thrones hand-crafted for kings. The white stitching weaved and flowed down and around the edge of the seats, tracing their every curve. I look up. Suede, are you kidding me?! The ceiling was covered in it front to back only broken up by two separate sun-roofs. It was mean and angry on the outside, but welcomed us as guests in a five star hotel once inside. It was a dramatic combination of beauty, luxury and power and I was in control of it. I looked in the rear view mirror, paranoia was starting to set in and visions of a cop car jumped in my head, but were quickly escorted out by the sound of all 550 horses hard at work hauling down the freshly paved highway. I gripped the steering wheel tighter once more. My knuckles growing whiter the farther down I pushed the pedal. I floored it and we shot back into our thrones as the gravitational forces worked their magic sucking us deeper into the seats. Tunnel vision began to set in and everything around me became obsolete except for me and the road. The street was starting to look more and more like a runway as I quickly accelerated up past 100 miles per hour and then coasted back down to 65 MPH. I started to cackle again, only this time there was no sense of being nervous, just adrenaline. I loved it. I loved every aspect of it. The sense of enjoyment and kid-like amazement caused me to grin ear to ear. I looked over to see my copilot with the exact same grin. We had no worries at this time. There was no stress of getting school work done, going to work, or dragging the trashcans to the curb. It was just us and the beast. I began to fiddle with all the buttons and controls which were nothing short of a NASA control board. Each individual button was something different from traction control to the massaging chairs. Once we were stopped at a red light I decided I would scroll through the different driving modes, until my eyes lay upon the holy grail of buttons. There were no words on this button and no color, just a little checkered flag screaming my name. I pushed it down and nothing happened so I tried a couple more times and still nothing happened. I was a little bit let down until I had an idea. This time I held down the button. Five seconds into holding down the button something glorious happened. The entire dashboard changed its color from a luxurious calm blue to an electric red. A little note appeared in the bottom of the electronic speedometer that read “Track mode enabled.” I couldn’t believe it. I had only heard about track mode on top of the line cars like Mercedes, Aston Martin, and Maserati. It had never dawned on me that the Jaguar XJ would have one. “Dude…did you just put it into track mode?’ James asked apprehensively. I couldn’t contain myself. “Yeah, man! I didn’t even know it had a Track Mode!” Suddenly I had a use for the paddle shifters that were sitting precisely behind the steering wheel, which were also covered in black leather. I couldn’t wait any longer. I hit the gas and could feel the difference immediately. I roared through first gear hitting the right paddle shifter which launched us into second gear. I ripped through second gear not taking my foot off the gas for even a second, and once again hit the right paddle shifter up to third gear. There was no luxury anymore, no more sense of being pampered like kings, this was raw power. We were quickly making our way up through fourth and fifth gear hitting close to 140 mph. The now red dashboard illuminated my face making my ear-to-ear grin look as menacing as possible. I briefly looked at James whose eyes were screaming slow down, but our matching grins said otherwise. I continued swerving in and out of lanes like a mad man getting honked at from what felt like everyone. I deiced to put it back into the fuel economy mode. I could not care less about the honking or angry gestures being thrown my direction. This was living in the moment, and it was beautiful. I had found my inner peace and it was in the form of a supercharged five liter 550 horsepower V8. My moment of nirvana was broken by James. “You know that if he finds out we took his car, your uncle is going to kill us.” Shit. I had almost completely forgotten about my uncle. “Yeah, what time is it?” “Its 12:45” My stomach dropped and my hands were starting to become clammy. How had I lost track of time this bad? My uncle would be home in 15 minutes and we were 25 minutes away. I was panicking and my heart rate was slowly increasing with the thought of my uncle kicking my ass. He was a short bulky guy with a small fuse, and in fact I probably had a good four or five inches on him. His bald head and five o’clock shadow was somewhat of a look he had trademarked since I can remember. Although I had the height advantage this man was a body builder and briefly played in the AFL before ending his career to become a neurologist. He still lifted weights every day at the age of 65 and as far as I could tell he was in better shape than me. My diet of beer and cigarettes was starting to seem like a bad idea when faced with the possibility of having to defend myself from my uncle. “He’s going to be home at one o’clock” I said nervously James replied with not a scent of being anxious, “Well shit, at least now we have a reason to drive like maniacs!” Duh! What the hell was I freaking out for? I could easily get us back before he got dropped off. I put track mode on and we were off to the races. Not one word was exchanged between me and James on that ride back and not even the radio was playing. Taking every possibility I saw to pass a car or two I began to weave in and out of lanes again as if the brake pedal was nonexistent. We got off the highway and from there it was a straight away for about 3 miles with one right turn. Ripping through third gear I sucked us into the back of our seats again. I glanced down at the speedometer and saw the needle touching 100 MPH. My best friend “Track Mode Enabled” was in the bottom right corner laughing with us as we made the sharp right turn onto my uncle’s street. I made the final turn into the driveway and let out one final cackle as my adrenaline rush had come to an end. We made it. I set the seat back to my uncle’s settings and sprinted into the house with James right behind me. My uncle did not get home for another 30 minutes. He walked in the house after getting dropped off by his friend. He suspected nothing as we helped him carry in the groceries and beer he had gotten us for watching his dogs. For the rest of the day I could not help but laugh every time I walked past the garage door. |