An Assisted Personal Narrative Written by Aymen © October 2011
I walked down the stairs. The loud noise of students talking filled my ears. The teacher in charge of dismissal called my name. The day ended as it had started, being driven to another location. I got out of the gate and walked with my driver. I could see cars parked and parents and drivers waiting for a child. I reached my car and found my brother, Ahmed (as usual) and his friend. I sat in the back seat. All was fine, until Ahmed got out of the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s seat.
Ahmed stepped on the gas pedal and went off. He drove carefully and smoothly and it kind of felt like my driver was driving. He glided down the street and made an easy right. He went on and on until he reached a U-turn. All of this could have been avoided if only he went to driving school and if my mother were in town. Anyway, he reached the U-turn and, well, took it. However there was another car going by. Ahmed drove on and the car made a small shake and our headlight clipped with the other car. And Ahmed, if you’re reading this, we live in reality, not in GTA.
The driver of the other car got out and started speaking in rapid Arabic. My brother and driver got out to talk and reason with the person who was about to erupt with anger. But it seemed he was contradicting them. My jaw dropped down in shock and a question that vibrated rapidly in my mind was, “What just happened?!”
We arrived home with the furious driver tailing us. Ahmed was in shock and fear. Well, in the end we paid about $200 for the guy’s car and I learned never to enter a car with my brother in the driver’s seat.