Personal Narrative Essay: Alma's Golf Carts

741 Words3 Pages
He stole the wrong grandma’s golf cart. The leaves were just starting to fall when I got the phone call. “Alma’s golf cart was stolen.” I felt my heart speed up at the thought of my poor grandmother sitting at home alone with a thief right outside her door. My palms started sweating as my mother started describing the events. “It was stolen along with a container of gas about an hour ago. I called the police and Alma left in her car. We don’t know where she is,” “Where could she have gone?” I questioned while my heart sped up even more. Not only was my grandmother a victim of theft, she was missing. My sister, Emily, was driving us home and she could tell I was getting nervous. “What is she saying?” Emily asked, prompting me to change the call to speaker so she could listen as well. My mother on the other end of the line explained the whole situation again so Emily would know what’s going on. She gasped and then started asking the same arbitrary questions I was…show more content…
My chest tightened as we rode up on the flashing lights of the police cars. A wave of relief covered me as I saw the familiar white truck that belonged to my grandmother parked awkwardly on the dirt road. The truck seemed to be blocking a dust covered SUV from entering the main road. Right beside the SUV sat my grandmother’s golf cart. My family let out a seemingly rehearsed sigh of relief when we saw Alma talking to a police officer. The other two officers appeared to be talking to the owner of the SUV. The owner of the SUV was a man in his thirties that was frightening in nature due to the fact that he was covered in tattoos that were given with a ballpoint pen in Cell 237 by a guy named El Diablo or Butch. Most grown men wouldn’t mess with this guy but, my seventy-year-old, gun carrying, bible beating, big haired grandma just stopped a seasoned criminal from stealing her five-year-old golf cart and a gallon and a half of
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