Personal Narrative Of My Car

November eighth of last year, a day that will live with me forever, evolved into a day that my car (Lexi the Lexus) and I almost died. On this lovely Sunday afternoon, some friends and I headed out to enjoy our normal Sunday Funday. Shortly after leaving the house for a drive, the song “Jesus, Take the Wheel” started playing. About ten minutes after the song we sped along about 75 mph down a blacktop back road, singing, laughing, living the time of our lives, and carrying on as normal, when we hit rock. After hitting rock, we started fishtailing for about a mile down the road, and we all began screaming, “Jesus, please take the wheel!” After gaining control of the car, I finally surrendered, throwing my hands up in the air and closing my eyes, just hoping for the best, and knowing that in the end, all of it happened for a reason. Lexi the Lexus eventually came to a sudden stop. Scared to open my eyes, I finally roused myself and squinted to see where we ended up. We sat in a ditch full of swampy Snake Run water that filled the entire driver’s side of my car.
I pulled myself together enough to call my grandpa, who performed miracles when needed in order to help me out. Shortly after describing to him with my horrifying directions where I happened to be, he arrived with my uncle who loves to harass anyone and everyone with as much crap as he possibly can. After doing everything they possibly could with my uncle’s truck and grandpa’s Jeep, and after trying ten different ways of trying to pull Lexi out, and getting nowhere, we finally decided to call my lovely mom, who we all knew would scream, and who, to make matters worse, left