Rome :: essays papers

Rome Personal Imaginative There she was, in all her beauty. She was parked on the corner on the button were I left(p) her She looked good, She looked hotter than hell. Her shinning poppy red exterior, sparkling likes diamonds. All heads turned by the elevator gondolas stunning looks, all ears raised to the sound of the Hi-Po V8 289, equipped with a Paxton supercharger a sound you just take ont hear but feel. A classic sign of American muscle. My Classic 1966 GT 350 Shelby Mustang. I jumped into the bucket sets, stop for a moment to observe the car/s beauty , before igniting the engine, tho to be satisfied by that usual throaty growl. I eased the stang into first and rolled her out of the car park, towards a set of nearby traffic lights. Here I stopped next to a 1973 Corvette stingray. The Corvette was a decorous car, a real looker, and bright orangish in colour. The man in the Corvette was about 50 years of age. He was a small man, bald and quite a fran kly looked harmless well so I thought. Before I knew it, he looked over at me, giving me an aggressive look, at the same epoch revving his engine. The look he gave me could only be translated to one thing He wanted to race. The lights changed to green. Instinctively I slammed my foot on the accelerator, coming down on it like a ton of bricks, and send the Stang leaping forward as if it was transformed into a wild mustang. The growl of the engine sent vibrations through my body. I was thrown back in my seat due to the force of the acceleration. Behind me I left a wall of smoke, and the smell of burning rubber. In 4.5 seconds I was doing 60 mph, the Corvette growing small and smaller through the rear-view mirror. I was amazed. I was doing incredible speeds. At this stage objects out of the window gradually became streaks of colour. I was left unable to distinguish between objects, escape cock parked cars and people, within the last millisecond. At those speeds I was enclose d in my own world. I no long heard the outside world, but only the Magnum wheels screeching, gripping the road like glue.Rome essays papersRome Personal Imaginative There she was, in all her beauty. She was parked on the corner just were I left her She looked good, She looked hotter than hell. Her shinning poppy red exterior, sparkling likes diamonds. All heads turned by the cars stunning looks, all ears raised to the sound of the Hi-Po V8 289, equipped with a Paxton supercharger a sound you just dont hear but feel. A classic sign of American muscle. My Classic 1966 GT 350 Shelby Mustang. I jumped into the bucket seats, stopping for a moment to observe the car/s beauty , before igniting the engine, only to be satisfied by that usual throaty growl. I eased the stang into first and rolled her out of the car park, towards a set of nearby traffic lights. Here I stopped next to a 1973 Corvette stingray. The Corvette was a nice car, a real looker, and bright orange i n colour. The man in the Corvette was about 50 years of age. He was a small man, bald and quite frankly looked harmless well so I thought. Before I knew it, he looked over at me, giving me an aggressive look, at the same time revving his engine. The look he gave me could only be translated to one thing He wanted to race. The lights changed to green. Instinctively I slammed my foot on the accelerator, coming down on it like a ton of bricks, and sending the Stang leaping forward as if it was transformed into a wild mustang. The growl of the engine sent vibrations through my body. I was thrown back in my seat due to the force of the acceleration. Behind me I left a wall of smoke, and the smell of burning rubber. In 4.5 seconds I was doing 60 mph, the Corvette growing smaller and smaller through the rear-view mirror. I was amazed. I was doing incredible speeds. At this stage objects out of the window gradually became streaks of colour. I was left unable to distinguish between ob jects, dodging parked cars and people, within the last millisecond. At those speeds I was enclosed in my own world. I no longer heard the outside world, but only the Magnum wheels screeching, gripping the road like glue.