College Admissions Essay: Eight-Hour Road Journeys

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It's always the same long drive. The car is painfully quiet and you can feel the anxious energy hanging in the air. I've memorized all the landmarks. The powerplants mean we're halfway there, then the white bridge, then the faded yellow taco shop. There’s always the same nervousness of getting closer, and not knowing what to expect. He might be having a good day or he might be in a disoriented loop again. It's always bittersweet nostalgia visiting my grandpa. I will always cherish the time I get to spend with him but the visits are tedious and sometimes unbearable.
When I look at my grandpa I still see the man who would invent songs to entertain me on our eight hour road trips to Mammoth. I see the man who my six year old self admired for

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