Descriptive Essay On A Motorcycle

1083 Words 5 Pages
It seems like yesterday that I would sit in front of the screen watching the motorcycles race around the track at insane speeds. The way the motorcycles rounded the corners and ripped apart the straightaways awakened a raging fire deep in the pit of my stomach that would seem only intensify with as I grew older. Every since I was a young boy I was fascinated with motorcycles. I would love to see them as they would pass by mom’s car on the freeway, or whenever we would go to the store in our little black Mazda and I would see a group of motorcycles parked at the front door. The colors, commonly known as candy paint colors glistened in the sunlight their rich and deep shades of ruby reds, and cobalt blue shimmering more radiantly and beautiful …show more content…
Since joing the major leagues motorcycles have diversified into multiple groups over the past century such as standards, cruisers, and the group that captured my heart sports bikes. Sports bikes are the high-performance cars of the motorcycle world and I was determined to own one. So, I took a page out of every teenager movie ever, and like a mosquito buzzing around his ear I bugged my dad until he took me seriously. I would tell him how I wanted a motorcycle, but he was still skeptical saying, “I don’t know chandler, motorcycles are dangerous. Why not just get and car?” to which my one response whenever he asked that was, “I can’t afford the insurance, can …show more content…
I had gotten my first taste of freedom, and like a shark after its first taste of blood I wanted more. The blood pulsing through my veins was burned like magma, and I without realizing it too had begun to change. I needed more, more speed, more control, but everyone always said, “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it”. Those were the words that raced to my mind on a breezy winter morning as I my body had an impromptu intimate meeting with the damp asphalt, my limp body rolling across the black top like a bowling ball only never to reach the pins. Just continuing to roll and roll occasionally saying hello to the beautiful lavender sky before being reintroduced to my new lover, Mr. Asphalt. Upon finally reaching a stop, and trying to prop myself up my left wrist snapped backwards like a twig, and once again I became acquainted my new unforgiving best friend, asphalt. Although my wrist was broken, my wish was granted all the

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