Personal Narrative-My Road Trip To Arizona

A desolate, endless wasteland of flat grassy plains, the monotony of which was only interrupted by the occasional road sign, was all to be seen as I drearily stared out our black station wagon’s dirty window. The huge expanse of sky above was completely free of clouds and the sun beat down on our car mercilessly. The heat was almost unbearable and to make things worse, at this point in our long drive, the car’s AC was going in and out. My mom, Michaela, my sister, and I were currently traveling across the hellscape that was Montana. We were on our way home from visiting my mother’s side of the family, in her home state, Michigan. While the road trip to Michigan was tiresome enough, the return journey felt even more tedious. It was the fifth …show more content…
Our mom, who had done the vast majority of the trip’s driving, gave no explanation except that she expected there to be many more Subways on the way. I sighed, and peering out the window searching with only one purpose in mind: to find a Subway. As we continued, our situation only worsened. The car was overheating and the AC cut short completely. Montana’s relentless heat was now as present and inescapable as my sadness. I checked the snack bag again, to no avail. In it there was only half empty lukewarm bottles of water, granola bar wrappers, and the remnants of what was a healthy surplus of beef jerky. As empty as our snack bag was, our hearts were filled with determination. Our task became more urgent - we must find a Subway. Only a Subway would do. Unfortunately, Montana's attempt to spite us continued, as it had been what felt like a millennia and a Subway sign still evaded us. However, thankfully, before we could spiral into too deep a depression, we finally glimpsed the sign we had been waiting for. Mom flipped the turn signal and we took the next exit with hope in our hearts, yet to be crushed. After turning, we found McDonald's, Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, every restaurant you could imagine, even the deceiver, knockoff Jimmy Johns, except a Subway. Despite that false promises of the exit’s sign, Subway had slipped from our grasp once again. The Subway was nowhere to be found and we were forced to turn back, lest we travel too deep into uncharted territory. While Montana continued to mock us, our wild goose chase for another Subway sign continued. This would have been heartbreaking at the best of times, but this was not the last time we would be deceived. In the coming hours it would be three times that we took an exit to search out the restaurant, and while we were searching for delicious and affordable sandwiches, we only ever returned to the freeway with disappointment. As it turns