Day 1 Writing Homework
- July 11, 2024
- 4:20 pm
- 2 Comments
Write a narrative that would fittingly be titled ‘Crash and calm at Old Tom’s Garage’, with anthropomorphised cars, just as we saw in class today. Remember never to leave your reader wanting more — incorporate more description and more meaning into your text, which (as the title suggests) should weave in calm with ‘crash’ (whatever that may be for your text).
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Ensure You Put The Day and Year
Example: Day 1 Year 3 Writing Homework
2 thoughts on “Day 1 Writing Homework”
Jacob’s Old Gas Station was a place of quiet and tranquility. The petrol filling stations, once bright green and low dark white, were now dented and rusted from years of use. The roofs that once block the shade still served it’s perpouse, except now without their former human creators. You could barely make the the words “Jacob’s Old Gas Station” On the dirty wooden sign that is now neglected by the occasional lost and wandering driver. The store used to radiate a strong sense and atmosphere of life and activity but now, it stands for emptiness and ruins.
As, Joe, a retired Lamborgini, woke up to the signals of BYD’s playing digital chess. His paint was scraped and all that was left of his former glory was the logo on his roof and his shiny bullbar. His metal had been exposed to the open elements for so long that if you gave the faint paint a wipe, you could see the rusty, brown metal of his skin. When his engine was open, he saw
Madza’s and Toyota’s splutted smoke as they droove off for work. All of these cars had come here, a sanctuary for cars. However, not all of their residents were dedicated to preserving this haven.
“Hey, Gramps!” said Soks, a new and young Tesla. Also he was Joe’s child.
“Son, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” replied Joe
“A lot more,” retorted the Tesla, “ but how many time do I have to tell you to to get an electric charging station? Unleaded 210 is horrifying!’
Steam poured out of the Lamborgini’s eyes. He was annoyed that his humourous was once again pleading for his much beloved electricity. Why did young automobile’s have so much wishes? Did he not know the cost of electricity? Meanwhile, some Ford children giggled in laughter one of them started whispering gossip. Some Kia’s were in the meditation room refilling their tanks while the Holden’s waited outside patiently. Birds sang and chirped and the lizards croaked but the two cars stood on the highway, giving death stares to each other.
“Look, Son please get out of my face and stop complaining to me!” said Joe.
“Nuh-uh”
“If you don’t, I will charge”
“Give it your best”
Joe set his engine to 30km\h and drove head fast towards Soks. However, he in return charged a 40km\h. Their engines roared as most of the cars were disrupted from their peaceful tasks. Some started cheering. Some started panicking.
As every car braced for impact, Mellisa, a wise BMW and president of the gas station, shouted, “Stop! Who’s making all of this racket?”
The two cars slammed on their brakes. Everyone, pointed to them.
“Ah, you two again.” she observed, “Come to my office. We’ll settle this over a civilised cup of Unleaded 210”
Unable to protest, the two cars reluctantly trundeled towards the little wooden shack of Mellisa. However, Joe gave out a slight grin. He’d won this round.
Day 1
The battered up lifeless cars lay sturdy at the back of old Tom’s rusty melancholic, dark garage. The aura of the air was burnt and shattered with noxious fumes of petrol and hazardous bits of sharp metal pieces could leave you crippled or worse decapitated after one trip. At the very back of the ancient garage stood a proud, smug 96′ Camaro, oozing with the bright scarlet paint which was dazzling in the rays of the resplendent sun reflecting off the window down onto its grand body.
“You, yes you the ugly one with no windows or a number plate,” called out the grand Camaro, “you’re never going to have a life,” he smirked indignantly. The old broken-down car winced with pain mixed with annoyance. “Why do you care so much, maybe because you wish you had a life,” the old but wise car replied causing the whole garage to erupt into laughter, which was not a very pleasant sound.
The Camaro’s smug grin and easy-going engine quickly turned into a frown with his eyebrows arched and engine rough and ready like a stormy sea ready to rip anything in its way to a million pieces. ” You prehistoric scum, meet me outside this garage and we shall race, man to man or should I say man to dead,” The Camaro scowled hastily.
The ancient car, Thomas showed no heed of fear or wanting to back out. Instead, he calmly smiled and said ” You’ve got yourself a race.” The other cars gasped in awe and shock but again Thomas showed no surprise or shock. “That upstart needs to be put in his place,” was all he said as he rushed off to amend his wheels for the race.
The two cars stood proudly behind the line waving to the boisterous spectators who were watching intensely as this was only a once-in-a-lifetime moment. An old racing car came up to the front and explained the rules to the two powerful cars who nodded abruptly. On that note, everyone cleared off the ‘race track’ as the racers took their marks. On your marks! Set! The Camaro took a moment to blow a raspberry at Thomas but the old car showed no emotion. Go!
The cars erupted and flew past the race track like a cheetah who had identified their prey. Dust swivelled in the air as the spectators squinted immensely trying to work out where the cars were. To their utter shock, Thomas was leading the race and was approaching the finish line. The Camaro was starting to gain on him however Thomas was too close to the finish line. Urging up his last bit of strength, he bolted past the finish line. The Camaro came behind huffing and puffing trying to muster up any excuse, however he didn’t have any. He had lost fair and square.
Thomas started spluttering out oil and he jerked forward with vomit (screws and bolts) clutching his stomach in pain. All the cars gathered around, but it was too late. Thomas was gone. However, he left back a legacy, a moral, never let anyone define you based on your age, race, or how you look. The cars wept in memorial to the brave, wise Thomas leaving his moral planted on the top of their hearts.