On your sixteenth birthday all you ever want is a car to cruise in, have fun, be free. Well, for my sixteenth birthday, I was given a car. It was a 1994 Ford Taurus SHO. The SHO stood for Super High Output, and believe me it had it. It was the most beautiful car I had ever seen. It was a blue color, like the sky at midnight, shinny chrome wheels, and 240 raw horses under the hood. I loved that car, and I was determined to let everyone know that.
             I had just started school, and I was determined to show off my car and its power. And I remember my dad telling me "this car has a lot of kick in it, so be careful." Of coarse I was rebellious and did just the opposite of what he told me, anytime I had a long stretch of road I would floor it, with the wind in my hair, and the stereo blaring, just living. Then people started coming up to me and telling how nice my car was, I'd just smile and say thanks in a cocky sort of way. My car and I were inseparable, but that would soon come to an end.
             It was September 13, I was getting out of school, and some friends asked me for a ride home so I said sure. I was traveling down woody road, going about 55, and this road only had enough room in the lane for your car. When I had dropped my friends off, I left the neighbor hood and started to head home. As I'm heading home I round this curve that I'm taking pretty fast. So to take the curve better I drift into the other lane a little bit, when I saw another car I panicked and jerked the wheel hitting a ditch nose first and flipping my car end over end. Windows busting, things breaking, to be honest it sounded like a rock concert in my car. When it was all over I couldn't believe I didn't have a mark on me, I survived, and my dad is going to kill me.
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