Pedal Fast-Personal Narrative

A beautiful sunset could signify a positive outcome for the race. However, at this point the reader Next, the author connects

When I was 13 years old I went to school in Waycross,GA. I went to Waycross Middle School. My school was one of the top schools in Waycross. I was 3rd in my class, and I had all A's and B's.

“For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection on her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.”

Heeled boots clicked against the hard wooden floor, taking a halt in the center of this rugged and filthy bar. Her dark blue eyes surveyed the room with contempt coating her face; a bunch of unsightly ruffians and brutes littered the premises.

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

A road, a bicycle, and no destination: it was my omne trium perfectum for those dark, dusky twilights which cast a perpetual five o' clock shadow over the calendar of this summer. The balancing beam frame of my bike, a comfortable extension of my August body, scattered humble gold leaf petals of rust in her wake to honor the merciful drippings

Imagine being on the back of an older brother's bike, arms hugging his chest tightly and flying down a hill, wind flowing through hair billowing out behind and lungs sore from shouting for joy. The next day is made up of begging for a bike and the passion to be the same one flying down that hill, wheels turning too fast to see and the landscape shooting by too fast to make out more than a blur. Soon, a bike is given with a bow on top, cherry red and oh, so beautiful. The next week is spent learning how to ride it; falling down, trying to balance, falling down again, and still, can't balance. Finally, enough practice allows the freshly polished cherry red bike to perch at the top of the hill, an eagle ready to fly, and then down it goes, seemingly soaring over the pavement.

I was a passenger in the backseat of our family vehicle. The small bumps in the pavement lulled me to a place of perfect repose. As we looked outside our windows we could see the sky painting a magnificent show for us. The sun was going down, but the heavens were brighter and more astounding than I had ever seen them before. It was as if someone had set the clouds alight with raging wildfires and splashes of pink and purple scattered about. I never wanted it to end, but the sky had other plans. The masterpiece before us began to recede into darkness as the nighttime engulfed the sun and put daytime to

I bolted to the barn, grabbed my faded red bike, and seconds later my Converse high-tops were creating circular blurs as I pedaled across the yard. I swerved onto a narrower road, racing past cottages, and wooded hills, and pick-your-own fruit signs on white

At the summit of a small hill the traveller shrugs off his backpack, leaning the bulky object against a moss-draped rock to prevent his life spilling out of the barely zipped pockets and tumbling down the grassy hillside. Facing the lowering sun, he raises his hands above his head, fingers interlaced, and stretches his aching shoulders. Conscious of the many years that have gathered in his clicking joints, the same way the dust of so many beaten tracks is embedded in his faded canvas hat. It was blue once, a deep inky blue like the twilight sky just as the first stars are appearing, but the years of sun and rain and snow have drained its colour to a dirty smog-grey.

Multicolored lights lazily fly by, tails of neon blue, purple, orange, and red trailing behind them. They drift past the window that I stare out of, almost seeming to wave at me as they float on through an eternal dream. I sit in a small travel pod, soft violet hues spilling out over the cushions, walls, and floor. I'm not sure where I am headed, but it's certain that it's far from my old life of struggling and pain. All I can see as I gaze out my single window, is space, an infinite inky canvas. Colors dotting and splashing its serene fabric and edges. The scene is one of tranquility and peace, letting myself become one with the soothing atmosphere of calm. I'm now far away from the hardships that haunted me, as I travel to a new destination

Hooves pounding as dust billows from the earth, the world races by and I feel as if I could fly. The adrenaline fuels my body while sweat and muscle weakness threatens me, but it is no match to the euphoric feeling with which I am overcome when ride. Since stepping into the saddle nine years ago, the way I look at and interact with the world has completely changed; but one thing remains constant – riding is my escape

On a beautiful Saturday morning I was sitting on my newly painted porch, enjoying the bristling winds, hearing chirping birds to a beat, and well— just the great outdoors. Rocking back and forth on the family porch swing, I heard the soothing squeak of the old chair. The view of my bike locked, hanging onto the garage, and the smell of the freshly cut grass got me daydreaming about the exciting events of tonight. My friends Piper, Jasmine, Mae, and I were planning to bike around our town, Hillzboro, to find the highest point in which we can see the once in a lifetime Blue Moon. The main reason why it was so important to us four is because it’s the reason we became so close. Ever since childhood we’ve been

Years later, that fateful day still carries piercing images. Today, I can recall fragments of it. Yet they are all vivid. In fact, they are so vivid that it saddens me when they appear in my mind. The vibrant colors racing around, filling me with the utmost joy, making me laugh, and think, and question, and smile. I always thought it would be perpetual, a never-ending ride with all else forming a blurred background as I ride up and down, up and down, up and down…

After washing my plate I got dressed in my swimming trunks. The trunks I wore were a vibrant orange with a blue and white flower pattern on the thigh. I rushed to the my grandpa’s blue Ford F10 truck, hopped in, and buckled myself up in anticipation of going to the beach. After a forty minute drive, we finally arrived at the beach. Once I step out of the truck I feel the rays of the sun sinking deep into every pore of my body. The sand feels warm and slides smoothly underneath my feet as I dart towards the water. The view was amazing; the ocean water was gleaming a refreshing crystal blue, the sand shimmered a royal yellow, and the seagulls soared across the sky like coordinated fighter jets.