5.7 Liter Supersport :: English Literature Essays

5.7 Liter SupersportFinally Almost there. Ive been in this pick-up truck driving to work for the past 20 minutes, yet it seems like hours and hours realise passed. Its really hot outside and this old truck doesnt even have air conditioning. Anyways, the reason why Im riding in this broke down pick-up truck is because my dad is giving me a ride to work, his liquor store. Now I already know what everyone is probably thinking, 18 year-old guy without a car, still having daddy take you everywhere. Well, not anymore because Im meeting this gentlemen for a test-drive on his really nice car. O.K. dad, you presumet have to slow down before even getting in the parking lot. I know youre just trying to hinder the task at hand, huh Shut up Sunny, your ass could wait a few more seconds preservet it and one more thing, dont act so desperate in front of the guy, O.K.? Make him want to sell you the car, not you desperately wanting it. This right here is very normal of my dad to try giving me advice. He does it every chance he gets. So just like every other situation, I give him my frequent reply. Aright pops quit trippin I got this, aight? My dad just laughs pulling into a parking spot right in front of our liquor store. Its in a pretty rough area. The area has been known for its weekly shootings by the local gang-members. To the side of the store I notice the car out of the break of my eye. It looks just like the picture I saw on the internet. I get out of the truck faster then Marion Jones sprinting so I can have a better look at the fine piece of machinery. My dad goes into the store to look for the guy. From just looking at the car, my heart is melting. I could stare at this car for days. A 2001 Chevy SuperSport Camaro, a Corvette powered sports-car that was going to be mine. Ive been researching this car for the last three years, and now I finally have earned the opportunity to buy this car. Now what was it my dad was telling me? Oh thats right, to not let him se e me drooling over the car. I know that Jim told me he wants to sell his car for twenty-eight thousand five hundred dollars, but it seems a little steep.