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Personal Narrative: Crash At An Abandoned Golf Course Essay

It was a beautiful summer day. Not a cloud in the sky and the sun beating down on anyone under it. It was a perfect day to call over my friends and have an adventure or play ultimate Frisbee like we did almost any day. Today, my neighbor and I, Paul, decided to change things up for a change. We decided to use my homemade go-kart on the abandoned golf course, Blue Heron, behind my house. We grabbed our helmets and took brushed the dust off the go-kart from years sitting in my basement garage for years and were on our way to the long steep hills that Blue Heron had to offer.

When I was young, about five years old, I dreamed of racing go-kart at the track in my hometown of Leesport, Pennsylvania. One of my friends was a champion go-kart racer and I always remember thinking how I wanted to feel the rush of racing after I got to sit in his kart. My dad took action and decided as a father-son project to build our own go-kart. After weeks of precise wood work and adding a sophisticated steering system that consisted of a rope and a two by four on a swivel.

The “gas” of the kart was simply an empty space where you could set your feet and push the cart like you were Fred Flintstone. And the breaks, which were a two by four on the side that couldn’t stop anything let alone me, were just there to make my mother feel a sense of safety as five year old me was zipping down hills with a big smile on face. It didn’t take long to find the perfect hill to begin our adventure. We found a long stretch of path that started with a steep hill and then took multiple turns before you were dumped into the golf course which would slowly stop you.

It wasn’t until we got to the top of the hill until I realized the magnitude of the hill. But, being too excited to break out my go-kart I was excited to go down the roller coaster like hill. I first started walking Fred Flintstone style until I reached the peak of the hill. When I first started going down the hill the adrenaline hit me. With no control over my speed it felt like a helpless free fall and the only thing I could do was steer perfectly through the narrow path. The most difficult part though was avoiding the dead piles of grass that lined the sides of the path.

Being an abandoned golf course there isn’t much upkeep except cutting the grass every once in a while which built up on the side of the path. After the exhilarating and successful run I ran back up to Paul for his turn telling him how fun it was. Paul being two years younger than me was unsure of the gokart being his first time and gave me a shy “ok” in a shaky voice when I asked if he was ready. I was perhaps a little too enthusiastic in response to his nervousness so I pressed on and gave him a little push to get him going down the hill.

It was Paul’s first time using the go-kart so he didn’t even have a feel of how touchy the steering is. As he was going down the first hill all Theard were the screams of Paul as he felt the free fall that| had experienced and helplessly tried to apply the break that doesn’t work. The hill that we chose was set up that you couldn’t see after the first turn so after the hill Paul would disappear into the path where he would eventually slowdown in the grass. Before Paul could disappear he started to swerve just a little bit.

In an attempt to adjust, the over corrected and began going back and forth uncontrollably until he was out of my sight. But, he wasn’t out of my sight for very long. I could hear the wheels of the kart going down the hill until there was complete silence Paul had ramped off one of the dead grass piles in an attempt to correct and I see Paul flying six feet in the air upside down and soon falling onto the pavement head first. I instantly run to go get him thinking to myself the worst of outcomes. “His leg is snapped in half.

He scraped his face. His arm has to be broken. ” was going through my head as I sprinted to the screaming Paul. Not one thought I had while rushing to him was a positive thought to this outcome. As I ran up to the cart, wheels are still spinning, upside down. I see Paul lying on his stomach still screaming, twisted with his foot through the opening in the cart. Running up I noticed nothing broken in half which was a good sign but still didn’t convince me enough to think he was ok. I quickly ask, “Paul is anything broken? Are you hurt badly? Still crying he turns over exposing his leg which was scraped from his knee down to his ankle.

I then noticed his hands which were scraped all around tearing the first layer of skin. He then barely audible told me nothing was broken to my astonishment. After we checked everything I knew I needed to get him back home to get taken care of. As quickly as I could I put Paul back into the kart that just before had tried to kill him and pulled him back to my house. My mom came outside and gave me a look of disappointment because she never liked the go-kart.

The only words she could give to Paul were that he was ok and it isn’t bad but in reality Paul was much scraped up but he needed assurance he would be ok. We sent him home to his parents who actually took it better than I thought. His dad who is was a football player gave him the classic suck it up and wrapped a bandage around the wound. As my mom and I walked home she made sure that I would not use “that dangerous death machine” again. It has been two years since the crash at the abandoned golf course and it still sits in the garage in the basement collecting dust.

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