For those of you brave enough, I would appreciate if you would go to town and criticise my college admission essay into the ground!

As we jerked and clanked away from the cattle guard, Daisy, the Boston Terrier, shot the occupants of the 1974 VW Thing a disgruntled and disapproving look. I’d let the clutch out too fast, causing gears to scream in distress, and my grandfather to wince as our heads whipped to catch up with the rest of our bodies. It had become tradition that all of the grandkid’s learned to drive the Thing at the age of 15. While the model was discontinued in 1975 because the military based vehicle couldn’t pass new safety standards, Gramps had found one for a price to low to turn down, and restored it so that all the grandkids could learn to drive stick. And now it was my turn. So we rattled on, as I slowly accelerated down the red dirt road.
I had my first driving experience at age three, when I sat in Gramps’ lap and turned the wheel of his Ford tractor while he worked the pedals. A year later, when managing the controls of a 5 ton parked backhoe, I got within 18 inches of taking out the front end of his truck. Yet another memory involves me sitting in his lap while he drove the Bobcat. While it may not sound that exciting, I was having the time of my life, seeing as we were chasing my older sister in attempt to dump a shovel load of snow on her. (Luckily for her, Gramps had a little more mercy than I would have when we caught her). My first experience driving on the roads came at age 9, when we would go cruising in the golf cart on back roads. All in all, I was hot on Dale Earnhardt’s tale, a little driving machine.
From my early years, I was in a constant state of fascination with each new exiting piece of machinery that Gramps had in his shop. A retired pilot and airline mechanic, he had taken up overhauling and restoring tractors, cars, and engines. There’s was just something about the aromas of engine oil, melted steel, and WD-40 all floating and twisting together in the air that makes my nerves tingle to this day—the smell of curiosity, and ingenuity. It’s a smell that will always remain ingrained in my consciousness; my mind still flashes to that Mecca of knowledge every it I time a welding electrode meets metal, creating a shower of sparks, and that sharp, acrid smell that I learned so well, watching him create some new contraption of scrap metal and old parts that would’ve been wasted elsewhere.
As I grew older, I grew more curious about the way things worked. I would constantly be picking up tools, pointing at engine parts, asking what this did and how that worked. I’m sure sometimes I could be a nuisance, like the time I set some oily rags on fire when playing with the bench grinder, or the time I put the golf cart in reverse on accident and knocked the 70 pound shop fan off the loading dock, but always reacted calmly, simply showing me how to remedy the situation I’d created.
So as we pulled away from that cattle guard and on down the road, and I shifted smoothly into second gear, then third, I realized why learning to drive a standard transmission was causing me so much trouble. While I knew how to steer, and I’d used a clutch plenty of times on tractors, I’d never done these simple actions in such a situation before. Here, I was following road signs, holding the clutch, tapping the brake, feathering the throttle, yielding to traffic, signaling my intentions, shifting gears, and a plethora of other simple things that can be so easily forgotten in the heat of the moment. But Gramps was there with me, as I worked to put all of it together, piece by piece, until after more than a few bumpy starts and rough stops. After a few more tanks of gas, at last I could navigate uphill stops and starts with ease, seamlessly integrating all the instinctual motions into fluid acceleration.. It’s times like these, when looking back at all he taught me, that I realize my life would simply not be the same without Gramps.

Muchas Gracias!
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A juggalo? Pokedex that ****.....what are they? like clowns...wannabes?

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Seeing as you can't even get the thread title correct, *reported* please do it yourself. It's spam.
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Also you're off topic. This thread is about Reva eating snowmen.