Personal Narrative Essay: The Green Hornet

With 176,000 miles, broken window cranks, stained nylon seats, a massive dent on the right fender, and the pungent fragrance of a high school locker room, my friend Ken’s ’96 green Mazda Protege was the most decrepit, yet beautiful car I’ve ever ridden. It could have been Ken’s adventurous driving or maybe it was the car sounding like it would explode while idling, but I sometimes feared for my life in that car. Due to its bright hue, Ken nicknamed it “The Green Hornet.” I laughed when I first saw it; however I realize I grew a lot in that jalopy. The Green Hornet took the brunt of many jokes. When Ken drove into our school parking lot, my friends and I would try to outrun the car’s sluggish acceleration. We wanted to paint on numbers and stripes to give it NASCAR styling. Ken's questionable driving added to the "legend" of the Hornet. He exceeded speed limits, neglected to slow down around corners, and constantly fiddled with the radio. He had a theory that STOP signs with white borders were optional, and only mandatory if the border was black.
Ken and I founded our school’s Sports Media Club and broadcasted all the games together. I was the tech guy while Ken provided the on air commentary. I had no intention of speaking on air, as years of speech therapy made me feel self-conscious. Midway through our school’s third football game junior year, Ken put me on the spot: “Patrick, what are your thoughts on our defense’s performance?” I was caught off guard, but I didn’t stall. I surprised myself by offering fluid, analytical balance to Ken’s