The Stranger in the photo me.
Spencer Hayes
Ms.Dean
English 9
11/11/16
I can’t remember the last time I was in that front yard, or the last time riding those bikes, but I do know from the start I always loved to ride my bike. I first started riding bicycles when I was about three. I can still remember some of falls I have been through, on my little blue bicycle I used to have. I can still remember my dad encouraging me to get back up, even when I was on the ground crying. My mom would bandage me up and then my dad would put me back on. I was riding the bicycle until I had enough courage to ride the dirt bike. My dad built a small track with a little jump in the backyard.
I cannot remember when my dad bought me the yellow jersey or the rest of the gear, but I can remember that I loved to wear it because it made me feel official. My older brother, a better rider, would always beat me. When I was on the dirt bike, I can remember always being behind my brother because he was just faster. It irritated me so much, but what hurt even more was that I could not recall me beating him once. When I was that small, he could do everything better then me, but now as we get older things are on a more even playing field.
In the picture you can see Nigel (my brother) and I, and we both have the biggest smiles on our faces for some reason. I cannot remember why we were laughing, but it was probably because of our dad. It probably wasn't even funny, but we were too young to know it wasn't funny. Because now when he tells a joke we laugh, not because it was funny, but because of how bad or corny it was.
Spencer, I really enjoyed reading this piece; you provide details that tell the reader important things about you and the “characters” of your life: your dad who challenged you, your mother who bandaged you, and your brother who also served as your competitor. I recommend that you try writing a conclusion to this piece that ties your thoughts/feelings about this picture and its corresponding memory together.
Ms.Dean
English 9
11/11/16
I can’t remember the last time I was in that front yard, or the last time riding those bikes, but I do know from the start I always loved to ride my bike. I first started riding bicycles when I was about three. I can still remember some of falls I have been through, on my little blue bicycle I used to have. I can still remember my dad encouraging me to get back up, even when I was on the ground crying. My mom would bandage me up and then my dad would put me back on. I was riding the bicycle until I had enough courage to ride the dirt bike. My dad built a small track with a little jump in the backyard.
I cannot remember when my dad bought me the yellow jersey or the rest of the gear, but I can remember that I loved to wear it because it made me feel official. My older brother, a better rider, would always beat me. When I was on the dirt bike, I can remember always being behind my brother because he was just faster. It irritated me so much, but what hurt even more was that I could not recall me beating him once. When I was that small, he could do everything better then me, but now as we get older things are on a more even playing field.
In the picture you can see Nigel (my brother) and I, and we both have the biggest smiles on our faces for some reason. I cannot remember why we were laughing, but it was probably because of our dad. It probably wasn't even funny, but we were too young to know it wasn't funny. Because now when he tells a joke we laugh, not because it was funny, but because of how bad or corny it was.
Spencer, I really enjoyed reading this piece; you provide details that tell the reader important things about you and the “characters” of your life: your dad who challenged you, your mother who bandaged you, and your brother who also served as your competitor. I recommend that you try writing a conclusion to this piece that ties your thoughts/feelings about this picture and its corresponding memory together.