Personal Narrative-Parody Of Chalky Snow

It was cold. I was rocketing through the fine, chalky snow. I was everywhere. If you look to your left, I’m there blasting through a drift. If you look to your right, I’m there steering my snowmobile like a madman. If you look up, I’m there jumping over a ditch. I was intoxicated with the feeling of a rush. I was a 12 year old boy with his head in the clouds.

I wasn’t just driving a track though. I was making my trail. I was leaping and bounding over drifts and road crossings, I was not the husk I once was. I was submerged in bliss. Even though I was going so fast I was blasting snow everywhere, it seemed like I was going slow enough to take in all of the surreal wasteland around me.

All of the savory bliss was soon wrenched from me when

I saw my companions turning onto the road of a crossing. “This is too soon,” I thought dismally. I was swiftly making progress towards the turn, but I wasn’t paying attention. And then, I blasted into the road and flew up!

Once I peaked in height, I realized what was happening, but once I did I knew I was powerless to stop it. My descent felt like it took eons. Once I hit the depth of the ditch, my head was floored into the handlebars and my leg suffocated under the machine. As I lay in the depths with snow down my spine, my sister emerged from the top looking down upon me.

In conclusion, I had a harsh day snowmobiling. My sister never let me forget that dreadful day. That day was important though, because I learned not to let my pride outgrow my ability.