Personal Narrative: My Car Murderer

Alright Hunter, do you understand what I am telling you? “Yes” I say confidently. “So you are not going to stall this time?” My dad asks, white knuckling the handle in the car for dear life. “Absolutely.” I remarked. I threw it in 1st and released the clutch. My new car rejected the imperfect shift and stalled in the middle of the street yet again. People behind the little green car now decided it would be a good idea to pass this troubled vessel. Looks of sympathy and frustration flashed by. This was what took place on the day I bought my first car. It was a green Ford Focus hatchback, and I loved it every bit of it, even its unnatural green shell. That being said, I despised the fact initially of driving a manual. The learning process was a race against time however, with each stall I was sure my car was losing the little life it still had left in the 12 year old body. It didn’t help much that my dad …show more content…
I am equally sure that it has taken years of my dad’s life from the stress I have induced. If I didn’t learn how to drive this morning, I would have to cancel picking up my girlfriend later that evening. I could imagine myself calling her up and saying, “I am sorry to inform you but I can’t drive my car because I killed my dad and broke the vehicle because I am stupid.” This was not a call I was not prepared to make. I put my foot down firmly on what I now knew was the clutch, then put it into 1st. A successful cluck was heard of the gear dropping into place. I inched my left foot slowly backwards until the green machine grabbed hold of the clutch. The car inched slowly forward, as if hesitant of whether the user was going to abruptly kill it again. I then let it go all the way, which upset the car. It shook with frustration, but only for a moment until it regained its composure. I looked over at my dad, who I wasn’t sure if he was responsive, but gave me a half thumbs up through his hands holding his head