Personal Narrative: My Nascar Driver

When i was very young the first memory i ever had was my dad, mom, and me went to my grandpa’s house in stanton. It was the very last house on the corner, and there was a big hill after and 90 degree turn to get to his house. My father’s car was parked on the curb, and it was just put into gear because, it was a manual. The parking brake wasn’t up incase anything did happen to make the car start to roll, because usually nothing did happen. Until, I decided i wanted to be a nascar driver and mess with the clutch. I had only seen my dad use it everyday, so i thought i would be like him and mess with it to. But nobody was outside watching me to make sure i didn’t do anything bad.
I was sitting in the ugly little car, making sounds acting like