Memories - a creative writing piece for my english class about car trips with my father.

Ill everlastingly remember car trips with my father - sitting in the passenger seat, singing along to the wireless at the swipe of my lungs, having long conversations about nothing in particular.

        Our car trips were periodical events. On the Friday night, or sometimes the Saturday morning, hed pick me up and tote me to his place, and then, on the Sunday evening, hed drive me home again - always in time for dinner at six oclock, neer later, or Mum would get angry.

        Back when I lived in Geelong, the trips would each last about an hour. I loved pass over the Westgate Bridge - The Big Bridge, as I called it. We used to stop into service stations whenever Dad essential petrol, and buy icy-poles. Dad always finished his quickly, before he started driving again, but I was slow - I like to savour the taste of my Calippo, Magnum, Split, or whichever other icy-pole had caught my eye that day.

         afterwards I moved to Melbourne, the journeys between houses werent as long anymore. We didnt go to the service station on the way, so it almost snarl like a tradition was lost.



But, I was growing older, and we prove other things to do to pass the time - like compete a game where you have to guess the song differentiate and artist before the song reaches the chorus.

        Years passed, and the car trips were as fun as ever. We had our songs, which always seemed to come on the radio when we were driving. If one of my younger sisters was in the car, wed play the number game, which consisted of yelling out, I see a si-ix! whenever one of us saying the number six, be it on a number case or a speed...

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