Paragraph on a Trip Taken (in the "Angell" style)
Post your paragraph here before class this Friday. This is the last assignment for the blog. Thanks for your participation here this term; I will review all your contributions when deciding on your final marks.
15 comments:
Hello, brad...this is my last assignment of paragraph on a trip i had, i hope u like it~
P.S:i used only one sound, i hope it's ok...:P and do i have tell u which sentence has 5 words, and 25 words??
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Do you ever wonder whatever happened to your family car? Well, I do. I still remember whenever my dad bought a new car every single year, he would drive us crazy. Especially when the thanksgiving weekend begins, he would brag and says “Oh yeah, this is the way man drives~” whenever we went to our annual family road trip to urban to see our distant relatives. We had a rule – a very strict rule matter of fact - no matter whatever things happen, keep on driving, and have to wear a Korean traditional dress: a hanbok - that was my dad’s rule and guess what? Things happen always no matter what, and the dresses always got ruined at the end. On the way to see them, my sister, who sat next to me, had to make a pit stop to vomit suddenly. And because of the rule, my sister ended up vomiting all over my dress and my dad drove into the pavement and looking at her annoyingly. On the way to our home I rolled down the windows, I heard the cars whooshing past us and that was that for our family car.
Words: 196.
I rode, and what I remember best thirty-four years later are the tense moments—not many in a 12 hour stint on a bicycle—where I had to climb some 14 mile hill (outside Kamloops) or duck the mirror of a tow truck pulling a wide load or watch, helplessly, as it whooshed by Arnold’s head, missing him by an inch. Yes, riding across Canada had its moments (well, if it didn’t why do it?) but one of the best came late one sun-drenched day in New Brunswick. The shadows were long when—pop!—a flat tire forced me to make a quick repair. I was riding on sew ups, ridiculous racing tires glued to flat rims. To fix, I pulled off the tire, cut the threads holding the casing closed, found the leak with spit pressed onto the latex inner tube, patched, sewed it back up, and (with a sigh of relief) glued the tire back onto its rim. The evening light was golden. I was alone at the side of the road—no cars in sight—and felt a happiness I still feel, sometimes.
—186 words
Driving my Toyota Camry from Burnaby to Drumheller-in Alberta, a well-known small town for its dinosaurs’ fossils - was an exciting experience giving me some first-times. Driving by Cokahalla, wow, the scene that the cypresses coated with snow was exactly the same as the Christmas card which I bought it in my childhood. It was like the image jumping out from the brain and becoming real. Next, on our way, something looked like birds’ poo occasionally dropped on the windshield and smashed, then more and more. I tried hard to search for any flying objects in the sky, but there was nothing. Later, we parked at the rest area to check it. My goodness! Hundreds of bugs’ dead bodies stuck on my car’s front bump; small blood dots combined with heads or other parts scattered. I had never seen that before. Then, here we were in the prairie. The grand grass surrounding us was extending beyond our sight. How amazing! But I didn’t like it -too flat, made me feel boring, only the sky is changing. Finally, we arrived at our destination-Royal Tyrrell Museum. However, in this trip, I remembered the Christmas trees and bugs’ bodies more than the dinosaurs’ fossils.
-201words-
“Bang!” a bomb exploded about 50 yards in front of Jack, a heat wave swallowed him immediately. The mud fell around him like raindrops. He looked through the smoke and found his teammate was enveloped by the guan fire of the enemies’. Jack lied on his stomach and crept towards his teammate. “Tui, tui, tui…” a group of bullets shot into the ground before his face. He covered his face into the arms. Soon Jack found himself stuck in the situation like his teammate. Damn it! There was one machine gun fired to him and his teammate fiercely.
“I have to get rid of this spot—the machine gun—stopped our movement like a rough tiger! Or we all have to die here.” Jack made a gesture to his teammate to cover him. “Da, da, da…” his teammate rolled over and started shooting. It worked, the machine gun was attracted. Jack stood up and run as his tail was on fire too.
He leaped over a creek and reached a rock where he could see the back of the machine gun clearly. The enemy was excited as their gun. “Okay, go to the hell now.” He took a deep breath and pulled his trigger.
Speedy Driving
“Giddy up! My friends, we are now in US. These Americans drives like they are always late.” Right after three cars of us all passed the border —Allen’s voice crumbled from the walkie-talkie—joking away as he always does. My husband pressed his foot harder on the pedal so not to lose the second car’s tail. Speeding up to over 80 miles, my husband promised my youngest son that we’ll get to the rest area soon. My son worried. For his most concern on a car trip was how often and where he can take a leak. He was not sure about how well he could control his nature’s call. The Tulip Festival was our first stop and the traffic looked good. We travelled in high spirit; kids hummed along with “Tarzan” movie sound tracks; I joked with my husband about the differences and similarities of driving among Canada, the US, and Taiwan. Suddenly, we were slowing down, cars were jammed. I could see in the rearview mirror my son’s whining, face twitching, and squirming around. Luckily, we were saved by the sign on the roadside that said “Rest Area 2 miles”. The unfortunate was avoided. Thanks to the speedy driving.
201 words
One summer day when I found out my first pregnancy, my friend visited to me from Japan. My parents in-Law, I call them Gary and Cathy, took us to go to Meager creek Hot spring in Pemberton, BC with Gary’s old Ford truck.
We stopped at water falls, enjoyed to take pictures and headed to the hot spring in early afternoon, met a Japanese couple. They warned us about the road condition. We thanked to the couple and started to drive in the dangerous road.
“Bump, bump, bum, bump….” Yeah, it was a rough road. We drove about forty minutes, then suddenly felt a difference with a crunchy noise; the steering joint which was connected to tires broke, so we couldn’t drive any longer. Gary got a ride from people went to the hot spring already, to the closest gas station to call to the tow truck.
Cathy and my friend and I waited about thirty minutes, and hitch hiked and rode on the back of a truck with no seats and no doors. Dust was trying to stop our breath, and bumping gave me a car sick— I was eight weeks pregnant— we met Gary at the gas station and called to pick us up to our family who lived in North Vancouver. About three hours later, he showed up and brought us back to Vancouver — we’re rescued!
229 words
It should have been a wonderful summer car trip after enjoying the abundant sunshine at the beach of Black Sea, if we had not met the thunder storm on our way home–only one hundred kilometers away from Buzau. Suddenly, tons of rain poured down on our windshield and blocked our vision. Wipers scratched crazily. The roll of thunder came one by one. My husband said not a word, but his hands with whitish knuckles grasped the steering-wheel forcefully. My four-year-old son trembled on the back seat. For soothing him, I described the shapes of lightning with my most cheerful voice--though my heart was throbbing, I could not say a word about my horror. “Look! It’s a witch’s hand!” I said. “Or a flower? You tell me.” Bit by bit he calmed down and started to appreciate the wonder of nature in awe. The last hundred kilometers seemed lasting forever. After a long wait, when we approached the familiar city roads, with the release of all my nerves, I told myself: there is no place better than home.
--179 words
The last two summer ago when I just got my new driver license, my friend and I drove my sister's red hot cute little standard Miata Mazda to Little Shuswap Lake in Kamloops for camping. We drove with the topless roof. On Highway 5 North-driving along the mountains, we talked and sang, and we were amused by the thick blanket of pine trees, the naked mountains with chunks of condense snow. Gradually, we sped downhill and whizzed in the tunnel; ummmm…. Out of the tunnel, it started reducing speed, and the engine started roaring and diminishing, like an exhausting dog. Looking back, it was very steep. A few cars swooshed by, and two truck climbed up from behind, and a truck went downhill from the opposite. "C'mon!" "C'mon!", said me constantly. Luckily, there was a gravel shoulder ahead, and I crawled in, and then it choked-stalled. The burning smoke emerged from the hood-more and more. We wondered if it broke down, and if we phoned a tow truck, it would take a few hours to arrive. Ignoring, we came back to the seats, and enjoyed snacks for forty minutes. After that, it started again, and we kept climbing up the hill. Finally, we realized that I didn't changed to low gear before the uphill.
Not a road trip per say, but it was most certainly the longest I have ever traveled. Actually, it was only from Vancouver to my house in Burnaby–I had just injured myself and was in a severe amount of pain. My cousin had lowered his car–a 1991 Honda Civic–because he liked how it looked. I may as well have been hanging my leg out the car door, that couldn’t have been much worse than having it bounce around inside of the car as lowering the car made for the bumpiest ride ever. My head down–just waiting for this horrid ride to be over–suddenly we are stopped. I raise my head and see we are in a McDonalds drive though!? The proposal of free fast food from my cousin makes my pain subside momentarily. After the longest twenty-five minutes of my life I arrive home. I step out of the car when –snap!- I collapse to the ground only to realize that the sound was my ankle. Too soon for any weight, I guess.
Words: 178
Want a Ride?
It was a long day and there I stood—totally run down—in a waiting shed, along the busiest road of Manila, waiting for an empty jeepney—a public transportation that originated from US military jeeps—to arrive. While almost dozing off in the corner—honk! honk!—the people lining behind me suddenly started pushing each other as the jeepney approaches. Desperately wishing to go home, I dashed and strategically positioned myself in order to get my entire body near the rear door. Luckily, my contest pays off as I am one of the first people to enter. As the fully packed jeepney took off, I started to feel dizzy because of the intense heat, humidity and various odours that had mixed inside the vehicle. Because of that, I leaned my face towards the window hoping to sniff some fresh air. However, a pungent aroma of dead fish stung my sensitive nostrils forcing me to face inward once again. Exhausted, I decided to rest. It was about ten in the evening, and I noticed the jeepney was already three quarters empty. I rejoice, but, it was short-lived as a saw I bunch of people approaching, and cramming the jeepney once more. Feeling suffocated again, at last I am at my stop, and I shouted “para po” (stop please). As I exit, I took a sigh of relief and felt so glad that the long, tiring and sick journey was over.
-226 words-
On mid November of 2007, I went to Texas to visit my sister, who I have not seen for almost six years. A ten-hour jaunt to sum up. Sigh! It was my first time going on a trip without anyone else. I took the Greyhound bus from Main Street to Seattle depot, then another bus--which I almost missed, but thank God I didn’t--to take me to SeaTac Airport. In the airport, I had to wait another four hours before my flight. Anxieties dwelt in me because I have never been in such a place all by myself. I opted to go by myself to at least experience freedom and to practice being self-dependent. When it was time to aboard,--"Lubb Dub"–-I was only hearing the sound of two valves closing inside the chambers of my heart. Inside the plane I sat. Looked around and thought of the contingencies. Until,--Ding dong, ‘Please fasten your seat belt’-- the plane is taking off. I was rigid with fear and left sweat on my seat handle. I’m flying. Extreme nausea ensued — but it wasn't enough to keep me grounded. Eventually I arrived, and saw my sister waving. Whew! Then I was relieved.
205
It was my first travel- 56 years ago, nearly- by the only long nosed bus named “Common car” from our small town to the capital city in summer. The bus was parked in the entrance square of the town, and passengers - also their bundles- were scattered along the wall shadow and around the bus. Porters were carrying the packages on the top of the bus roof to fix them by thick ropes, and the owners- sometimes- used to shout, “Be careful! Watch not to tear the bag.” At last, everything was all right, the crowd was by the bus, the driver switched the engine by a crank, and bus roaring gathered children. In the bus we, children, didn’t have any seats, so we sat on the big bags that had filled the aisle and reached the height of the seats. Before moving, the driver asked passengers for a shortest prayer; named Salevat. Then, the bus moved on the dusty road, and left dusty cloud at the behind. The windows sides were opened because of hot summer, and some dust came in every time that the driver braked The hot weather, the dust, the smell of the gas, and sweat odor made some people sick; some burps, then, vomiting began. People asked the driver to stop for a break, but he didn’t because the bus was moving up on a slope. Before reaching to the top of the hill, the bus stopped, automatically. The driver asked some men to jump down and put some big stones behind the back wheels. Now, all passengers got off and got a break in the sunset. 274 words
Many years ago my uncle William used to live in Cali: the Colombian Salsa city and the perfect warm place to go and take vacation. This city is 10 hours driving from my natal cold city: Bogota. My uncle is a businessman who used to travel through Colombia, so when school was done, my cousins and me used to be expecting the arrived of Uncle William to know who were the lucky ones to ride to Cali. Many times I went to Cali during my childhood, but I remember specially my first trip: Uncle William went to my place and while he and my mom were chatting, I was preparing my suitcases with excitement-I’m going to Cali! Bye, bye! We-my brother, my cousin, my uncle and me - went to the car and the trip started. On the Bogota’s border we got the road to go to Cali-what excitement! As much far from the city we stay much more trees on the road’s sides and what a fresh air smell getting warmer and warmer. Because Bogota is on a mountain we had to go down and address to north east towards El Valle del Cauca. Everything was perfect until we got “La Linea” which means “the line”, an ironic name for the curviest Colombian road. Ho! my stomach can’t handle it anymore! I’m going to throw, I’m going to throw! But I didn’t say anything nor even stop, and -plush - vomit was all over the door. Poor my uncle, he was rigorous with the cleanness of his car, but he wasn’t mad with me; he just stopped in a gasoline station and cleaned the car with a water hose.
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