Personal Narrative-My First Car

My first car. When I was fifteen years old my father gave me my first car. It was a 1969 Chevrolet Nova, candy apple red, black leather interior, Three hundred and fifty cubic inch inch engine that had been modified to a four hundred and eight cubic inches. It was a fall day on a Friday and I had just gotten off the school bus as I walked up my driveway and saw the car and thought wow that is a really nice car. My father was sitting on the front porch in a pair of blue work pants, no shirt, covered in his prison tattoos and grease. My father was a very firm but fair man, not a big talker. I walked up and said hi, he gave me a half grin. I asked who was at the house? He said just us. I looked back at the car and said who’s is that? He looked at me and said yours. what do you mean? I asked. He said this is your first car. My father was not the joking type so i knew it was for real. I dropped my book bag and ran to the car to look it over. I remember the feeling rush over me at that moment that this was the best possible first anyone had ever received. As the hour lone giggling fest came to a close, I noticed a large metal car part lying behind the car. I asked my father “ what is this”?

He told me he wanted me to respect and appreciate the things that are give to me. so I would have to install the transmission if I wanted to drive the car. At fifteen I had no idea how to work on a car or the difference between a socket and a wrench. He said “I’ll be right here beside you showing you exactly how to install this transmission, but i will not help”. At this point I was upset because I did not believe a kid could install such a large and intimidating piece of