A Personal Narrative

"JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder!" (jqj213) 12/12/2013 at 20:02 • Filed to: Personal, Oppo

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At the beginning of the year, my English teacher had us write an essay about a personal event that really changed who we are. My major event was related to cars. I always was scared to share this, but I feel that the only real way to recover is to actually come out and talk about it. That is what this post is for. Other than my English teacher, no one else has read this. Just a heads up, it is around 3400 words. So, be prepared when you click. Thanks

Moving to a new town is never easy; especially when you’ve lived in the same town, in the same house, your whole life. But, you know what they say; change is a good thing. The packing wasn’t difficult. Nor was saying goodbye to the house I grew up in. The hardest part was saying goodbye to my friends; kids I’ve known for over 12 years. The people who I witnessed grow up. The people who helped shaped me. But, despite a few tears being shed, it was done.

Once I took that final bus ride home, I walked into an empty house. I grabbed a quick bite to eat; in this case, a peperoni hot pocket. Why? It was the only thing that we could still cook. All the appliances, other than the microwave were boxed up. It wasn’t fully cooked through; the peperoni on the inside still cold compared to the crust being freshly baked from the ovens of Hell. Gotta love microwaves. After finishing this nutritious snack, I went into my room; the walls once covered in posters of Ferraris and Lamborghinis now bare, void of anything that gave it a personal touch. I grabbed my suitcase out of the corner where my lamp once stood; the depressions from its base still visible in the carpet. My grandmother, who had just returned from picking up my 10 year old sister, Ashley, from the bus stop was standing out by the rental car. The plan was for both my sister and I to fly up to New Jersey with my grandmother because that is where she lives; she was simply on vacation spending time with us. Our mom and dad would be driving up the next day, in one car, with four dogs. We threw our suitcases into the trunk, said our goodbyes to the dogs and our parents, and got inside the rental car.

Being a car guy, I always enjoyed reviewing the rental cars she got. This was a then new, 2011 Hyundai Sonata with only 1300 miles on the odometer. This was the car all the reviewers were talking about. They said Hyundai finally got their game together and was ready to compete with the Honda Accord and Toyota Camry, two of the best-selling vehicles, period. The fact that my father owned a 2007 Accord gave me a good baseline to compare it to. The new sheet metal looked sharp; all these creases and curves gave the car the impression of moving while sitting still. This example, a higher trimmed SE; a spec unheard of at most rental lots (they always buy the cheapest models available), was painted in Indigo Blue Pearl, a rich blue that went very nicely with the beige cloth interior. The whopping 18” alloy rims made the car look more expensive than it was. Only once you headed inside did you realize it was a sub $25,000 midsize sedan. The seats were firm. There was no automatic climate control. It lacked a sunroof. The dashboard was made out of hard plastics. And, because of the sloping roof, headroom suffered greatly in the rear seats. It also felt cramped in the passenger compartment; as if the dashboard, door panels, and center console were slowly closing in on you. Luckily, this example was equipped with Sirius XM Radio and a pretty decent sound system, so our focus turned from the poor interior ergonomics to what was playing through the six speaker system.

Once on the highway, the car was very nice. It was very quiet at highway speeds, but you really felt every little imperfection on the highway. The four cylinder engine, making 200 horsepower, felt more than capable of driving at highway speeds for long periods of time. It was also very good with managing mid-range power, so passing granny doing 50 MPH in the fast lane was no challenge. After an hour or so, we arrived at Fort Myers International Airport.

I’m going to come out right away and say it. I hate flying. Honestly, it is one of the worst things in the world. Nothing about it sounds fun. I’d rather get in the car and drive about twenty hours to New Jersey then get in a metal box with wings and go through the air at about 550 MPH 30,000 feet above the ground. What if an engine fails? Unlike in a car, where you just pull over to the side of the highway, you FALL OUT OF THE SKY in a plane. What sounds fun about that? Unfortunately for me, I had no choice in the matter and we were going to fly, even if it killed me (both literally and figuratively).

The security checkpoint was a breeze. The line was nonexistent; only one man stood ahead of us. All three of us got through no problem, with no pat downs necessary. Once through, we had about 45 minutes to kill before the plane even showed up. Being a typical little kid, my sister Ashley claimed she was hungry, even though she ate right before we hit the road. She pointed out a Cinnabon store (restaurant? I don’t know what they call them) and said that that sounded good. Now, I’m a bigger kid. But I don’t usually eat stuff like this. I hate fast food. I don’t have a sweet tooth. I don’t eat all day. So, deciding to eat at Cinnabon, at 3:30 in the afternoon wasn’t like me. I’ve never before had real Cinnabon before; the only experience is with those Pillsbury cinnamon rolls in the impossible to open tube that say they are made with real Cinnabon filling. I did, however, watch Louis C.K.’s bit on Cinnabon before; which, although funny, made me regret the decision. “No one’s happy in the Cinnabon line.” He says. But I decided to go for it anyway. Live large. Myself, a ten year old, and a grandmother all are standing in line at Cinnabon. This sounds like the setup for some cheesy joke, but it isn’t. After waiting for about fifteen minutes, we were next. “We are all out of full sized Cinnabons.” Explained the cashier; a Hispanic woman in her mid-forties. “But we do have these little ones that are bite sized.” We decided to go with her idea, mainly because Ashley really wanted to try it. She grabbed this sheet rack full of mini buns and plopped them in this high tech microwave. “Would you like icing?” asked the “cook”; a slightly overweight man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties. “Of course!” my sister responded. The chef opened up this warming drawer, grabbed a tube of icing, and put it all over the small buns. He then did the same to mine, but not my grandmother’s because she didn’t want it to be too sweet. We grabbed our tray, paid the cashier, and sat down.

Upon opening the box, one could smell the sweet cinnamony aroma these buns gave off. My sister tore into the buns, hands first, because who needs forks and knives in our civilized society? “Mmmmm!” she moaned, instantly falling in love with Cinnabon. Not being a Neanderthal, I used the plastic fork and knife the cashier gave me. I cut off a piece of the bun and put it into my mouth; and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It was fresh, still soft, yet still flavorful. The icing complimented it nicely. My sister scarfed hers in about five minutes. I took about ten. My grandmother, who still enjoyed hers, took about fifteen, because she wasn’t knew that there was no reason to rush. We cleaned up our table and went over to our gate.

The flight arrived about twenty minutes early, which was nice for us because it meant we wouldn’t have to sit in the terminal for that time. We were flying coach since it would only be a two and a half hour flight. Because of this, we were boarded last. Our seats were right in the middle of coach, just in front of the wings. We got the whole left side row to ourselves. This plane was equipped with DirecTV, so being kids, we asked our grandmother for it. Unfortunately, this was the day of the royal wedding, so the major channels were all doing live look-ins from England. I put on the Travel Channel and was watching this show about St. Augustine, a place I visited when I was younger and loved it. My sister found some movie and was glued to it.

The flight was actually very nice. We hit no turbulence or bad weather. We also were flying a bit lower than normal due to some stronger winds, so we got to see Earth the whole time, which made me feel more comfortable. The landing was smooth as well. We exited the plane, and walked out of the airport since we didn’t check any of our bags. My grandmother parked in one of the auxiliary lots, so we had to wait for a shuttle bus to drop us off. The bus was running late. After standing for what seemed like forever (but in reality was only about fifteen minutes), we got on the bus. It was an older Ford E-series van that was converted into a bus. It had all sideways seats with suitcase storage above. There was also some standing room in the back. The bus quickly filled up. We all had a seat, but were cramped. The man next to me, an older foreigner, smelled a bit like a hot dog, which was strange. We were the first stop. Eager to get some breathing room, we quickly exited the bus and went to our grandmother’s car; a 2009 Hyundai Genesis in white pearl. I actually picked this car out for her, and she loves it, so I guess I did well there. We threw our stuff in the back and headed home.

It took about an hour to get to East Windsor, NJ due to traffic on the turnpike. I was the first to walk into her house. It smelt clean, like freshly done laundry. The girls quickly followed. The first thing I did was take a nap. Ashley was busy unpacking. Our grandmother was busy playing Pogo on her computer.

We spent five days there before moving into our real house in Jackson. We showed up about twenty minutes before our parents and the movers. The house was much bigger than our Florida home. It was white with green shutters along all the windows. It was a four bedroom, two and half bath, two car garage home in the heart of Jackson; home of Six Flags Great Adventure. The kitchen was painted in Pepto-Bismol pink. One bedroom was a bright aqua blue with rose carpeting. The upstairs bathroom was pumpkin orange. My bedroom was white with the same rose carpeting. The master bedroom was a deep maroon with… blue carpeting! The whole house was not color coordinated. It was as if five different families were living in it at once. At least it was clean and in good shape.

Mom and dad showed up right on time. The movers were about five minutes behind them. They hopped out of the car and came over to us and hugged and kissed us. All I could here were our four dogs barking in the car. We threw them all into the fenced in backyard and showed mom and dad the house. They, like us, weren’t impressed with the color palette. But we didn’t own the house, so it didn’t matter. The movers showed up and immediately got to work. They took about six hours to fully unpack the truck. We said goodbye to grandma and went into the house, now full of our stuff.

About a week passed before anything happened. We began slowly personalizing the home with pictures and furniture. It was finally feeling like our home. But then, we had to start school. I wasn’t excited for this. Because New Jersey has different break times, they still had a month of school left, compared to Florida’s week. I had to get up at six, which was really early compared to my old routine of getting up at eight since I went to Pine View. Mom drove me in so we could meet with the guidance counselor to pick classes. After making my decisions, I was shown around the school by two older girls; Amanda and Karla. They were sisters who were then juniors in high school. They did a program that let them spend half the day back at the middle school assisting the staff and the other half at high school. They were actually sisters, Amanda was 17 and Karla was 16. Both were cute girls with great personalities. Karla was the prettier sister; her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. It allowed you to get lost in her incredible blue eyes, which appeared a shade of blue darker than most. Amanda was the smarter one. Still pretty, she cared more about school then most teenagers. They gave me a tour of the whole place and gave me all the dirt on the teachers and people to avoid. They also gave me their numbers just in case I needed any advice. I’m sure they gave this treatment to everyone, but it felt special to me. I then went to first period.

The first thing that was clear was that this was an older school. They still had chalkboards and projectors. The teachers had no Active Boards or computers. All the news was shown on an old TV hung in the corner. The teachers were all very good. They knew their material. Although in all honors classes, some of the kids were annoying and seemed dumb. But, oh well, you make do with what you have. The teachers immediately liked me. I always have that impression with teachers; they either like me or they don’t. After the relatively short day (they have shorter days), I boarded the strange bus. It wasn’t like the high tech air conditioned bus I knew from Florida. These were older, rear engined examples. They had no air conditioning. On the inside, one side of the bus had seats for three kids to sit in. The opposite side had seats for only two kids to sit in. These buses were equipped with radios, so the bus driver would play the modern hits station. It wasn’t my kind of music, but I know that the kids love that autotuned garbage they call music.

The rest of the year went by smoothly. Before I knew it, it was summer break. I was sleeping in late again and was relaxing; still putting the final touches on my room. Being a news person, I always was reading the paper; both local and international. I found the local paper online and made sure to read it every day. For the most part, Jackson was a quiet town. Not much happened other than the occasional fire or store closure. But there was one day that will always stand out in my mind. One day that made me wish I never found the local paper. A day that made me wish I didn’t care about current events.

July 13 th , 2011. It was a relatively quiet day. I woke up at around nine in the morning. I went downstairs to find a bag on the stove. Mom ran to the local bagel shop and bought a whole variety of bagels. I love bagels, and everyone says that Jersey has the best bagels (residents claim it’s the water, but I really don’t know). I grabbed a chocolate chip bagel. I popped it in the toaster oven our grandmother got us as a gift. While that was cooking, I grabbed a plate from the box in the dining room (we still had not finished unpacking) and the butter from the ancient fridge. I grabbed the bagel when it was toasted to perfection; slightly browning on the edges, but still soft in the center. I put a small piece of butter on it and spread it around. I took a bite and was amazed at how fresh it tasted. Just then, mom came out of the living room and said good morning. I thanked her for the bagel, finished eating, and went back into my room. I played Xbox until about one in the afternoon. I just got this racing game as a going away gift from one of my friends. It was so much fun that I couldn’t put it down. After I felt that I was playing for too long, I hopped into bed and went online. This was the decision I regretted. I went on the local news and there it was. Front page. Picture and all. “Two Girls Killed In Horrific Car Crash In Jackson.” Curious, I clicked the article and decided to read. The article started out saying that two Jackson natives were driving along the highway when they were hit head on by someone who was texting and driving. I should have stopped there. But I didn’t. “The two girls, Amanda (17) and Karla 16) Demarcus were killed instantly from the force of the impact.” My jaw dropped. I had to re-read that sentence. I still couldn’t believe it. It had to be wrong. I kept reading. “Officer Clark claims that the accident was caused by Jim Roberts of Freehold, NJ. He was texting while driving, and his car shifted into oncoming traffic. He was also going about fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. He hit the girls in their Mercedes Benz head on. They were pronounced dead instantly.” I slammed my laptop shut. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I turned on the TV, trying to change the subject. I also closed my door, because I didn’t want anyone else knowing. After about two minutes, I opened up my laptop again. I re-read the article. Nothing changed. I began tearing up. “Fuck!” I screamed, now very angry. I decided to read more. “Jim Roberts walked away from the accident with no major injuries.” “That asshole just killed to girls and he walks away with a broken nose? What the fuck is wrong with this world!” I screamed. I slammed my laptop down and put it on my dresser. I curled up into the fetal position and was crying. Mom came knocking to the door. I didn’t respond. She came in anyway. She began asking what happened. I didn’t really want to talk but when I finally explained what happened, she understood, said she was sorry, and left me alone. I was simply in shock. How could this happen? I just lost my best friends from New Jersey. I just lost my first friends from New Jersey. These two great kids, two who never did stupid things, just lost their life. They didn’t get to enjoy it. They didn’t grow up. They didn’t get to college. They didn’t get married. They didn’t get kids. They didn’t get their dream job. How is that fair? How can there be a God when shit like this happens? It was really difficult for me because these were the first people I met up here. Without them, I would’ve been lost. I wouldn’t have known anything about the school. These were my mentors, and now they are gone. Yet the person who crashed got to walk away. That bothered me the most. He was okay. He just killed two great young people.

When this happened, I pledged to never text while I drive. Never. I actually put my phone in the glove box while I drive; just to make sure I don’t touch it. I really began disliking driving from this. And that hurt because I am a car person. It was bittersweet. This passion that I had was deadly. I began researching things I really didn’t care about before. I began looking up laws and punishments for car accidents. I began realizing that life is precious. I understood now that any day could be your last. I understood why people act silly and goofy. They don’t want to give up life. Honestly, this made me grow up faster than I wanted. All my youth was lost at that point. All that cute, sweet innocence was gone. That was the first time I swore. That was the first time I really cried. That was the first time I understood that life is cruel. If this never happened, I may not be as serious. I may be more of a joking person. I may not be as afraid of driving. I may look at life differently. But then again, you never know.

Mathias Rios > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 08:44

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That conclusion there hit me like a boulder. I'm sorry for your loss... How old are you now?

thebigbossyboss > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 08:46

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Great read. Sorry for your loss. I hate to admit, I am a bit bad for texting and driving. Your story encouraged me to put my phones in the glovebox also.

I will start with my next trip tonight. Promise.

Hooker > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 09:23

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Wow. First, I am sorry for your loss as well as the loss of these great girls. It infuriates me when I see stories like this where the only person that survives is the one that caused the wreck in first place. I don't text/facebook/etc and drive and I don't let anyone else do it in my presence.

Second, thank you for telling the story. I understand that was hard for you. Those type of stories always are. It was a well written piece and I know it will have an impact on other people who read it.

JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! > Hooker 12/12/2013 at 10:15

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Whenever I'm in the car and we pull up next to someone with their phone in their hands I just want to pull them over and toss the phone out their window... and thanks for taking the time to read it... It was hard to write... I tried sticking some humour in the piece but in the end it is still the same sad message.

JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! > Mathias Rios 12/12/2013 at 10:21

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Thanks.. I tried injecting some humour but you cannot change that ending... I'm 15 (sophmore in HS)

Hooker > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 11:14

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I feel the same way. I am a firefighter and EMT with a local department and have seen my fair share of nonsense. Deaths that could have easily been avoided. Some with just a seat belt. Stay strong man.

Mathias Rios > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 11:17

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I'm 17. Keep your head up buddy... Texting and driving is a real epidemic today. Nothing wrong with facing the truth. :)

Shiarlis > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 20:38

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Not to tag along on someone else's comment, but I really don't see the reason to start a new thread if the just took the words out of my mouth. Damn, that sucks.

BlazinAce - Doctor of Internal Combustion > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 20:41

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Damn... That's some pretty heavy stuff to go through at that age. And I agree, it does make you mature faster than you expect, or even want to. I also lost my fair share of colleagues back in high school, both in traffic accidents, and to bad choices in life, and sometimes I wonder if that ever had an effect on me...

Teen pregnancy, drugs, fights, there was even a duo of best friends who were always together who eventually got killed during an armed robbery attempt, them being the robbers... Some of them I was closer to, others not so much, but it's still kind of screwed up to think that there aren't many of them left nowadays.

JR1 > JQJ213- Now With An Extra Cylinder! 12/12/2013 at 21:57

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Hey man I'm 19 and hours after my graduation something similar happened to my school. I barely knew her but the impact it had on our small community was huge. But with time things will get better. Keep your head held high