Essay On My Ride In A Vintage Car

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Essay On My Ride In A Vintage Car

Driving a car is a pleasure. However, driving an old car is a different experience altogether. My father has an old car from the Vauxhall Company. It is not more than a showpiece. Its blue paint has peeled off and its body seems to be affected by several diseases together. Its doors and the rusted carrier are tied with nylon ropes. The car has no windscreen. The bonnet has so many dents that it appears like a shield of a great warrior. The springs are raising their heads from the seats. The car moves at its will and even stops at its will.

One day we took out the car from the garage to take part in a vintage rally. Before the rally started, we were sweating badly because my cousins and I had to push the car. However, the car seemed to be doing nothing. My father turned the steering wheel and made many efforts but to no advantage. After an hour or so, we decided to give up our efforts. Suddenly, its whole body began to shake as if it had an earthquake within it. My father pressed the accelerator and the car began to move. We all shouted as if we had won the cricket World Cup.

The engine started to make a grumbling sound, but once again, the car stopped. We were disappointed and our excitement disappeared. We pushed it again with all our strength. Now my father decided to open the bonnet and check the engine. Soon his face and clothes became black. We found it difficult to identify him. He did not lose his patience. All of us gave him our handkerchiefs, but still, he could not remove the oil stains from his face and hands. After all these efforts the car started.

Sunny had held the left door. As it was heavy, it fell on the road. The car had to be stopped. We picked up the door and placed it over the carrier. We were again lucky that the car started. The car was moving very slowly. We saw a red signal at a distance. My father tried to apply the brakes. The problem was just about to increase. The car did not stop. The brakes had failed. My father was sitting helplessly at the steering wheel. Finally, it came to a halt after striking the traffic signal. The traffic cop issued a chalan of 500 rupees and we all apologized.

Until now, we had come a long way. We decided to proceed further forgetting about what had happened. The car was moving at a snail’s speed. One of my cousins sat on the bonnet waving a red cloth. We held our breath. At some distance, we saw a traffic jam. We decided to stretch our legs out of the doors to stop the car. However, the car struck against the dog van. People were amused to see our vintage car and they took it sportingly. Finally, the driver of the van towed our car down to our home.


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