Personal Narrative: My Dad Driving

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My Dad’s little british-racing-green MGA is apart of my favorite memories and apart of my most memorable failures. His car has been a part of my life since the day I was born. My earliest memories are of countless hours with my Dad driving merely for the fun of the wind in our hair. This car, the car he purchased after his high school graduation, brought me more experiences than I’ve ever thought I’d have. I turned 16 two years ago and that’s when things shifted. I got my driver’s license. I could now drive my dad’s prized possession. The first time my dad told me I should drive it my anxiety went through the roof. I was terrified I would break it, crash it, or burn it to the ground from grinding the clutch, since I knew little about how cars were built in the 50’s. I drove the car on the fields at the Portland racetrack where I didn’t have to worry about traffic. It was just me, my dad, and the car. I sat in the driver's seat, sweating profusely from my nerves and the sweltering summer heat. I was driving well even though I grinded a few gears, switching from first gear to third. I had successfully not crashed it, broke it or burned it to the ground. …show more content…

I had finally built up my confidence to drive it again because I knew my dad’s father-daughter day dream wouldn’t fade if I never learned. We returned to the racetrack. I was having deja vu. I drove the car around the racetrack outskirts back and forth, only killing it a few times. I felt confident, my dad was proud of me, and I was having

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