My Utopia
As I look up, I see the world above. The luminous sun looks down on me. Below, I see no end —only the darkness of the abyss. As I submerge deeper, my eyes open as I become part of the life in the sea. The fish pass as I sway in the current. I feel as if Iam floating in outer space. My body is weightless as my limbs dangle in the midst of the sea. I take notice of the vivid colors it holds, the bright yellows and fluorescent reds that catch my eye. My heart is filled with joy as I take in the beauty. I approach the bottom. I slowly touch down onto the floor as if landing on the moon. Every movement is so slow. I bring my hands forward to see what lies underneath the silty bottom. My hands dig into the muddy ocean floor to retrieve a piece of history. A remarkable piece of craftsmanship, my gold from the ocean. I place the old glass bottle carefully into my bag and look at its beauty. When I begin my ascent back to the surface, I cannot believe I was given this opportunity. Not everyone has a chance to experience that. When I try to explain the feelings I have when scuba diving, I run out of words. I usually tell people that it is as if I have found heaven –a place where all is perfect and where beauty and happiness are plentiful. The ocean is my utopia.
You vs the Mountain
Imagine the brisk, cold wind hitting your face at 25-30 miles an hour. You’re looking at the little ant-people and lego-buildings down below you as you go farther up. When you reach the top of the mountain, you slide off the lift and start skiing to the beginning of your challenge. You look out at the view ahead and realize it’s you versus the mountain. Nothing is going to stop you from going down the hardest slope of the mountain.
You push yourself off with your poles and start to your destination at the finish line going 50 m.p.h. Although trying to go faster and faster, the wind is pushing against you and your eyes are starting to water. You swoosh your body and skis back and forth, in and out of the poles. The time is ticking. When you see the finish line, you bend over to pick up more speed. Finally, you cross the finish line. You stop, wipe your eyes and pick up your head. You can hear the people yelling and cheering. “Nice race. Excellent time.” You look up at the time, 21 seconds, exactly. You beat the mountain. You won!
Owning a Car
Age Sixteen. After months of hard work and a little luck, I happened to have enough money to buy a used car. I thought I’d be living the American dream. My parents are blessedly lenient. They delude themselves into thinking I am a responsible young man, the poor fools. Over 55-miles-per hour, my car pulled hard to the right, and shook. It was time for a trip to …
The Shop. I just needed to have a front-end alignment and my tires rotated and balanced. I thought I’d only spend $65 or so. It was then that I learned the first rule of car repair: it always costs more than you expect. I was informed that the vibration was caused by a bad rear tire, and the alignment wouldn’thold until I had some additional work done. I needed a new tie rod end and CV boots. After looking at the repair manual half a dozen times, I still don’tknow what these parts do. Ipaid for it though,  and could just barely afford …高中英语文章
The Cost. It was $300. I hope to climb out of that financial hole soon. Oh yes, and there is the new tire, periodic oil changes and the annoying flashing of the air-bag warning light that need to be taken care of. Now, I find myself feeling guilty when I spend money on anything
but my car. I thought my chariot would bring me freedom. Instead, Iam bound in slavery. I own and operate my own vehicle, but the cost on my soul is as great as the one on my wallet.
My Parents are Driving me Crazy
There are not many times in a guy’s life when he is able to turn the tables on his family by following their instructions. While driving everyone to church, I had an opportunity. When the car was closing in on an intersection, the light changed, and my dad immediately shouted “Stop”.
One of my parents’few rules is: if they say stop, I stop –without question or hesitation, and every unstationary object flew forward. I heard my three brothers groan in the back, and my mother give a short, nervous laugh. After my father recovered, he 3 looked at me with bulging eyes and said with a shaky voice, “Nice work, Jas.”
Learning to drive has been more different than I expected. I had really looked forward to ge
tting my permit six months ago; I had imagined myself cruising down Route 66 in my babe magnet minivan. The day I started to drive, the reality of the situation hit me: for the next five months my paranoid parents would be in the car with me wherever I went.
Since I began driving, I have learned some amazing things about my parents. Whenever I get behind the wheel a change immediately occurs. My calm, reasonable parents disappear, leaving nervous wrecks. They try to hide their feelings, but whenever they give advice, it is either spoken through clenched teeth or screamed.
I am beginning to think that my parents associate my learning with driving with our religion. Not only do they lift pleading eyes toward heaven as Istart the engine, the drive to church is the only time that they relinquish the keys without argument. They probably figure that God will protect us since we are going to church to worship him (and they always seem thankful as they stagger out of the car when we arrive).