Week 5 Paper and Journal Questions

Week 5 writing assignment

It was the end of my first quarter at University of Washington - one quarter of Early Fall Start had just ended, and I had several weeks yet before I had to take Physics, Calculus and Programming. Before I had to face my major, and take “real college classes”. I was 18, had a brand new black Mazda 3 and a $200 non refundable food money left on my “Husky Card”. What to do?
Niklas, Max and myself decided that the only acceptable solution to this situation was a Road Trip. It hit us, while on I-90, that if we were we to get on I-5 South, we could just keep driving. And driving. And there was nothing to stop us. We had no commitments, no work, though also no money. We could pack enough food for a few days, pool our money together for gas, and stay in camp-sites along the way. We had a good friend going to school in northern California who we could surprise along the way. It was perfect, and nothing could go wrong.
We really wanted to go spur of the moment, unplanned, but our need for food stopped us until we could “hit up” some UW owned grocery stores and get our ”free food” off of my Husky Card. I also took out all the money I had to my name - a mere $87. I did this at a local ATM so as to avoid detection from my parents who would notice if I used my card in Oregon. We were determined to go undetected.
Thus, that very next morning, we awoke at an ungodly hour -12pm and with the trunk of my car bulging with a tent and a great deal of prepackaged preserved goodness we were off.
The drive through Southern Washington was largely uneventful, with a lot of highway, and worn down towns, strip malls and little else. When we finally reached Portland, we got immediately got very lost, very confused and finally found a smallish looking Motel with reasonable rates and food. Thus, we rested there for the night, our tummies full with a warm home-cooked meal, and the idea that the bulk of our driving was over. Tomorrow would be a day to explore and enjoy our freedom. With that comforting thought, we fell asleep.
The next morning, we showered, ate breakfast and planned out our day. We were to visit the Tillamook factory, and were extremely excited - we all loved Cheese. Laughing and enjoying ourselves, we spilled out onto the street, I with my car keys out and ready to roll. I was sitting down in the drivers seat when I heard someone call my name. I turned to look. Max was staring down at my tire, looking stricken.
“We have a flat.” He said it tonelessly.
“What? No that’s not possible. These tires are brand new.”
“Apparently it is,” Nik added in, annoyingly. “This isn’t a big deal though Kristina, I have Triple A, we’ll just have them solve it.”
So we waited. And waited. Finally “Burt” showed up, tow truck at the ready. We explained the situation, and he attached my car to the back of his truck. And we were off again. And the local Portland driver got lost along the way. So 2 hours later, we finally arrived at a Mom and Pops tire store. There were several customers in front of us, so we waited outside, chatting with Burt for about 45 minutes. Finally it was our turn and they quickly lifted my car up on stilts, removed the tire and began the repair process. They removed two long and sinister looking nails from the tire, and began patching. I went up to the cash register to pay, and they refused my money, saying that it was no problem. Things had begun to look up - perhaps we would be able to visit the Tillamook factory after all that day.
However, shortly into our cheese discussion, the manager approached us holding my tire. He explained that the tire was unfixable because I had driven it on the rim, and I needed a replacement. He also explained that this would be difficult to find as my car was very new.
So we were off again to find a Mazda dealership. Burt at the wheel, and my car in tow. The first two dealerships did not have tires to a 2004 Mazda 3 I with the “Sport Package”. The last directed us to Goodyear, right down the street. We pulled up, and dreading the answer asked for the Eagle RS-A tires. Yet they did have them! And in stock. Our hearts alight, we asked the price. And our hearts plummeted.
“Three hundred and Fifty dollars.”
“Why is it so expensive!?!?”
Looking scandalized, they replied, “The Eagle RS-A is a performance tire. It’s the top of the line.”
I inquired if there were any other tires that we could use instead – cheaper tires. The gentleman replied that apparently there would be an uneven wear pattern, and thus no. Niklas asked if we could purchase a used tire, and he again answered no, the tire was too new.
We went outside to discuss the situation amongst ourselves. We polled our money and found that we had a grand total of $174.82. Not quite enough. At 18 none of us had a credit card, there was going to be no “charging”. Searching for an answer that wasn’t going to come, I opened my wallet one last time. I noticed the gleaming golden edge of an American Express card, limitless and inscribed with my name. An idea formed in my head as I began to pull the edge of the golden solution out further. A bad idea. This was my parent’s American Express Card, for emergencies. Clearly this was an emergency, and normally my parents would have no problem with paying for a flat tire. However, I was in Oregon, without asking their permission – because I had known it wouldn’t have been given.
The beautiful card was slid back into my wallet, and my expression set, I climbed into my lopsided beautiful new Mazda. The spare tire now on, and my useless tire rim in the trunk, we drove in the direction of I-5 North, going no faster than 55 the whole way back.

Writing Journal Questions: What was learned?

I think that I am becoming more comfortable with writing creatively, because I have been having issues with keeping under the page length in the last two stories, which is much more normal for how I write. I believe I have a better understanding of how to write with constraints. I also realize many of my writing flaws, and how terribly difficult it is for me to be descriptive. Its so difficult for me to cut back my writing, too. Apparently I become very attached to every sentence and have to force myself to cut back. Also I become very interested in my own writing, and never want to stop and always feel that I have more to say.