Creative Writing: Driving Down The Road

Early June sun shining bright. I set off into town. Driving down the road, mind drifting. I know this roads every twist and turn, when CRUNCH. I step outside to assess the damage. To my despair I find a tree has viciously mutilated the right side of my Volkswagen Jetta. I drive home knowing the rage of my parents will be inevitable. After countless hours of lecturing they calm down and reach the conclusion that I must get a job.
Bob Aahl, was short portly man. I met met him through my grandfather. Mr. Aahl in his deteriorating health and increasing age had told my grandfather he was looking for a young man to come help him work on his boat, a 1948 Annapolis. My grandfather’s mind instantly thought of me.
I called Mr. Aahl that night. We arranged to start working the next morning at 7 a.m. Once aboard the Annapolis,

As the day winds down Mr. Aahl and I decide to go out and get some food at a local taqueria called Agave. We each order some carne asada tacos. These tacos lead us into fascinating conversations, involving his obsession with the U dub football team, his old red mustang and his two energetic corgis. After only a week I already felt like I knew this man inside and out. I knew what made his life worth living, what provided him with joy and with sadness. With each passing minute Mr. Aahl became less of an employer and more of a friend.
After we finish eating I start to head home from town. Driving down the road, mind drifting. I know this roads every twist and turn. Except there is no crash this time, but my mind contemplating everything I had just learned fro Mr. Aahl this past week. Not only had he imparted his wisdom of the value of inanimate objects, but also the value of human relationships. He and I were two people who under normal circumstances would never had met, but my mistake lead me to learn one of the most important lessons of my