Personal Narrative-My Racing Bike

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Cold wind in my hair, aroma of crushed autumn leaves and the warm shadows of trees around me. Riding my Father's old orange racing bike around the neighbourhood, only interrupted from the serenity by passing cars. The crisp Autumnal air blasted at my face sends chills down my spine. The streets are coated by oak and maple leaves that have met their colourless end. The light shadowing the streets is gradually becoming warmer as it finishes up for the day. I ride the bike on the road with ease. Occasionally not needing to hold on. Wisps of smoke from living room fires reach my nose as I continue to cycle through the streets. My freezing hands clench the breaks as I approach a hill. I pace my self to make sure I don't slip on the never-ending piles of acorns. Just when I think that I have my balance, a red sports car speeds past me causing the bike to spin out of control. …show more content…

I grip onto brakes with such a force that my body is propelled over the handle bars. I land with a mighty thud onto piles of crusty leaves beside the road. I feel like I've broken every bone in my body. I hear the screeching of breaks and sit up, still covered in leaves. The bike is scratched up and sprawled in the middle of the road with a a faded, mustard-coloured, car stopped behind it. I attempt to stand up but have no luck. The car's door swings open, and a girl jumps out. I takes her three tries to shut the old car's door behind her. The girl fits her surroundings perfectly, from her apricot skirt, her twenty-year old car, her flowing honey coloured hair to the sunset behind her. She runs over in her ankle boots and mismatched socks to the bike, the girl picks it up and wheels it over to

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