Personal Narrative Essay: The Muscle Car

I glance over, and I see him, we lock eyes and he even seemed to smirk when he saw me as I turn back to face the light. My grip tightens, and a cold chill swept through the car. Patiently I wait and as soon as the light turns green, I drop the clutch and off I go. I grab second before I’m even past the lights overhead. Within milliseconds, I see him flying away. I felt like I was sitting still. I was no match for that classic and I truly felt defeated and didn’t know what to do. But this got me thinking; when I graduate could I really handle a slow car, or should I get something that is jaw dropping fast. So, then I went home cracked a cold one and pondered what had happened that day. Finally, I came to the conclusion-it was muscle car time. I’ve narrowed it down to three options: my childhood favorite, the 1969 Dodge Charger, my favorite body style the 1968 Ford Mustang, and the car my grandpa always talks about to me, the 1965 Plymouth Satellite.
I don’t drive a lot of miles, but I don’t want to pass everything but a gas station. With that being said, the Charger averages a guzzling 12 miles per gallon while carrying 19 gallons. And with that, allowing you to drive a safe 200 miles before needing or worrying of filling up

Its price still allows for some small upgrades. The power is unreal, something that can be doing 70 on the interstate, while still having room to mash the pedal and reach triple digits within seconds. I was on my way home and stopped at a gas station. I was pilfering through all my stuff and being nosy to see what was left in the car by the previous owner, when I found a note! I opened the piece of paper and a 10, and 20-dollar bill fell out. I was shocked a bit at first, as the note read. “This was my baby, we had many of trips together and she was every bit of fun I desired when I bought her in 69’. So take extra care of here, the next gas station stop is on