Travel - Pre-write
I don't post much, but here's a pre-write for an essay for english comp 101. I'd like some feedback if anyone feels like giving any.
Music blaring on the radio, sun beating down on your arm hanging out the window, wind rushing past your ears making the sounds of the ocean, it’s so hot that sweat doesn’t just bead on your forehead. You look down at the speedometer and you’re going so fast that it broke a few miles back and is waving around madly. You look down, and your shirt is covered with blood, and you can barely see out of one eye. Teeth are in a plastic cup of what used to be cold water in the console. What’s there to worry about?
Plenty.
Like the hitchhiker you picked up just outside of Ft. Worth, Texas. She had long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and legs that went on for miles and her name was Harley. I could barely drive due to her physical features alone. Seemed like a smart girl, too. Had a good chat with her about life, and the wonders of this Texan heat. Turns out, she was from Kentucky and headed to anywhere but Ft. Worth, Texas. Kentucky is near where I live, or at least thought I did, till I decided to get out of there. Anyway, as it was, she was running away from something.
That something was a 250 pound gorilla by the name of Luke. Who also happened to drive an 18-wheeler. She didn’t tell me anything about Luke, I found out the hard way at the next rest station when I had to pee. Large burly man at the urinal next to me. Personally, I’m the kind of person who likes to make other people uncomfortable, and the perfect spot is when you walk into a bathroom and use the urinal next to another guy when there are plenty of free ones. To make matters worse, I started a conversation with him. I told him stories of my travels so far, and the hitchhiker I recently picked up. He seemed fairly interested by the grunt he let out. So I told him about how she looked and her name.
Next thing I knew, I was on the ground with my fly open and hearing the back of my head connecting with the grungy ceramic tiles of the floor. I’d have probably pissed my pants had I not been peeing at the time, so I ended up peeing all over Mr. Gorilla standing over me like death looming over his next kill. I’m sure it’d have been a funny sight to most, but not to me with what could be a broken jaw, concussion, and damaged pride.
I got up as quickly as I could and ran out the door zipping up my fly all in one motion. Harley was standing in the waiting area, and I ran past her. I swear I could feel the ground shake as the gorilla took every running step. I ran outside to my little red Mitsubishi Mirage hatchback, opened the door, jumped in, turned on the car and beat it the hell out of there.
Unfortunately, my little car wasn’t fast enough, and the urge to pee was once again rising in my stomach. Adrenaline still rushed through my veins and my heart was pumping like I just finished a marathon race and was prepping to do it again. Back of my skull is gently throbbing growing worse, and that’s when I notice a large black semi speeding, dodging through traffic with the greatest of skill. I instantly knew who it was, and what they wanted. Now, my car can obviously not stand up to the weight and speed of a semi truck, even fully loaded. I’m looking out for the safety of my car, so I pull over to the side of the road and stop my car and get out. I figure if it’s going to be a fight, it might as well be more fair than a hatchback against a four ton 18-wheeler.
The 18-wheeler slows down and rides past my car off onto the shoulder, and the monster steps out and I finally get a good look at him, large bushy beard, belly bulging over his pants, and close to 6 feet tall. He has dark curly hair on his arms, and a pack of cigarettes tucked into the hem of his shirt sleeve, cowboy killers to be exact. Out of the other side of the cab out steps Harley, and she appears to be in tears.
“C’mere and fight me this time ya little fuck weasel.” Says the monstrosity. I can’t settle a name for him in my head, he’s just too beastly for me. In comparison to him, I have short brown hair, white t-shirt, black pants, about 185 pounds, and weak in the arm strength department. “Luke, don’t hurt him anymore, please.” Harley says in between sobs. Then there’s the crack.
I wasn’t paying attention. Silly me, and there I am, on the ground again. This time it was my eye, and I felt it. I heard it. I didn’t see it coming, ironically enough. I stand up, this time prepared for the hit. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared enough. I’m obviously not the fighter I like to think I am, because now I’m in the air. Expecting to hit the ground any second now. Then I realize he’s holding me above his head and gearing to throw me at the next oncoming car. Where are the state troopers when you need them? I start to flail my arms and legs, finally connecting my fist against his elbow, and he loosens his grip and drops me. Funny bone isn’t really very funny when it gets hit.
Fighting is not going to work for me, so I start talking to Luke through gasps for breath, “Ok Luke, what’s the big deal here?” and he gives a semi grunt as a response. “That does nothing for me.” Is the thought in my head, but I don’t want another hit to the face, so I think of something else to say, coming up with nothing. But that’s partly because I misunderstood the grunt as a reply instead of it being the precursor of a hit to my mouth this time. I think it was a clue for me to shut up.
At this point Harley is screaming at the top of her lungs, and I’m feeling teeth come loose. Then a kick to my stomach is the next thing I feel. My left eye is starting to swell shut, and the adrenaline in my body is quickly fading away. I probably should have eaten lunch, had I known I was going to lose this much blood. From what I could see through one watery eye, Harley ran up and kicked Luke in the family jewels repeatedly. I slowly and tenderly sit up, my whole body is sore, but it seems like the fight is over. No man can fight after being kicked in the junk several times. I notice one tooth on the pavement next to where I’m sitting and pick it up, and a few feet away is the pack of Marlboro’s that Luke had in his shirt. I pick up the pack, pull out a cigarette, and gently put it between my lips. It hurts to even breath, and here I am, about to smoke a cigarette. I stand up, and walk over to my car. I get back in and speed away. I finally light the cigarette, and pull out a tooth from my mouth and put it in my pocket along with the other one.
Twenty miles down the road is the next rest station so I pull over to clean myself up a bit, and get something cold to drink. The cold water feels good against the throbbing gums where the teeth were knocked out and help to wash out some of the blood. I grab a plastic cup from the dispenser, and fill it with cold water dropping in the teeth. Everyone at the rest stop is staring at me as if I’m a road side freak show. So I wave good bye to them all, and give them the best smile I can and get back in my car and drive off.
Music blaring on the radio, sun beating down on your arm hanging out the window, wind rushing past your ears making the sounds of the ocean, it’s so hot that sweat doesn’t just bead on your forehead. You look down at the speedometer and you’re going so fast that it broke a few miles back and is waving around madly. You look down, and your shirt is covered with blood, and you can barely see out of one eye. Teeth are in a plastic cup of what used to be cold water in the console. What’s there to worry about?
Plenty.
Like the hitchhiker you picked up just outside of Ft. Worth, Texas. She had long brown hair, bright blue eyes, and legs that went on for miles and her name was Harley. I could barely drive due to her physical features alone. Seemed like a smart girl, too. Had a good chat with her about life, and the wonders of this Texan heat. Turns out, she was from Kentucky and headed to anywhere but Ft. Worth, Texas. Kentucky is near where I live, or at least thought I did, till I decided to get out of there. Anyway, as it was, she was running away from something.
That something was a 250 pound gorilla by the name of Luke. Who also happened to drive an 18-wheeler. She didn’t tell me anything about Luke, I found out the hard way at the next rest station when I had to pee. Large burly man at the urinal next to me. Personally, I’m the kind of person who likes to make other people uncomfortable, and the perfect spot is when you walk into a bathroom and use the urinal next to another guy when there are plenty of free ones. To make matters worse, I started a conversation with him. I told him stories of my travels so far, and the hitchhiker I recently picked up. He seemed fairly interested by the grunt he let out. So I told him about how she looked and her name.
Next thing I knew, I was on the ground with my fly open and hearing the back of my head connecting with the grungy ceramic tiles of the floor. I’d have probably pissed my pants had I not been peeing at the time, so I ended up peeing all over Mr. Gorilla standing over me like death looming over his next kill. I’m sure it’d have been a funny sight to most, but not to me with what could be a broken jaw, concussion, and damaged pride.
I got up as quickly as I could and ran out the door zipping up my fly all in one motion. Harley was standing in the waiting area, and I ran past her. I swear I could feel the ground shake as the gorilla took every running step. I ran outside to my little red Mitsubishi Mirage hatchback, opened the door, jumped in, turned on the car and beat it the hell out of there.
Unfortunately, my little car wasn’t fast enough, and the urge to pee was once again rising in my stomach. Adrenaline still rushed through my veins and my heart was pumping like I just finished a marathon race and was prepping to do it again. Back of my skull is gently throbbing growing worse, and that’s when I notice a large black semi speeding, dodging through traffic with the greatest of skill. I instantly knew who it was, and what they wanted. Now, my car can obviously not stand up to the weight and speed of a semi truck, even fully loaded. I’m looking out for the safety of my car, so I pull over to the side of the road and stop my car and get out. I figure if it’s going to be a fight, it might as well be more fair than a hatchback against a four ton 18-wheeler.
The 18-wheeler slows down and rides past my car off onto the shoulder, and the monster steps out and I finally get a good look at him, large bushy beard, belly bulging over his pants, and close to 6 feet tall. He has dark curly hair on his arms, and a pack of cigarettes tucked into the hem of his shirt sleeve, cowboy killers to be exact. Out of the other side of the cab out steps Harley, and she appears to be in tears.
“C’mere and fight me this time ya little fuck weasel.” Says the monstrosity. I can’t settle a name for him in my head, he’s just too beastly for me. In comparison to him, I have short brown hair, white t-shirt, black pants, about 185 pounds, and weak in the arm strength department. “Luke, don’t hurt him anymore, please.” Harley says in between sobs. Then there’s the crack.
I wasn’t paying attention. Silly me, and there I am, on the ground again. This time it was my eye, and I felt it. I heard it. I didn’t see it coming, ironically enough. I stand up, this time prepared for the hit. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared enough. I’m obviously not the fighter I like to think I am, because now I’m in the air. Expecting to hit the ground any second now. Then I realize he’s holding me above his head and gearing to throw me at the next oncoming car. Where are the state troopers when you need them? I start to flail my arms and legs, finally connecting my fist against his elbow, and he loosens his grip and drops me. Funny bone isn’t really very funny when it gets hit.
Fighting is not going to work for me, so I start talking to Luke through gasps for breath, “Ok Luke, what’s the big deal here?” and he gives a semi grunt as a response. “That does nothing for me.” Is the thought in my head, but I don’t want another hit to the face, so I think of something else to say, coming up with nothing. But that’s partly because I misunderstood the grunt as a reply instead of it being the precursor of a hit to my mouth this time. I think it was a clue for me to shut up.
At this point Harley is screaming at the top of her lungs, and I’m feeling teeth come loose. Then a kick to my stomach is the next thing I feel. My left eye is starting to swell shut, and the adrenaline in my body is quickly fading away. I probably should have eaten lunch, had I known I was going to lose this much blood. From what I could see through one watery eye, Harley ran up and kicked Luke in the family jewels repeatedly. I slowly and tenderly sit up, my whole body is sore, but it seems like the fight is over. No man can fight after being kicked in the junk several times. I notice one tooth on the pavement next to where I’m sitting and pick it up, and a few feet away is the pack of Marlboro’s that Luke had in his shirt. I pick up the pack, pull out a cigarette, and gently put it between my lips. It hurts to even breath, and here I am, about to smoke a cigarette. I stand up, and walk over to my car. I get back in and speed away. I finally light the cigarette, and pull out a tooth from my mouth and put it in my pocket along with the other one.
Twenty miles down the road is the next rest station so I pull over to clean myself up a bit, and get something cold to drink. The cold water feels good against the throbbing gums where the teeth were knocked out and help to wash out some of the blood. I grab a plastic cup from the dispenser, and fill it with cold water dropping in the teeth. Everyone at the rest stop is staring at me as if I’m a road side freak show. So I wave good bye to them all, and give them the best smile I can and get back in my car and drive off.