Old Beat Up Van Narrative

The poignant feeling of anticipation and excitement enthused us as we piled into Grandpa’s old beat up van. A sense of invincibility enveloped us as we started our twelve hour trek to Branson, Missouri. This serenity soon shattered when Luke began to throw up all over my seat. I sat horrified, trapped by the luggage in front of me. “Stop the van!” I screamed. Covered in bright pink Double Bubble puke, I bolted from the vehicle. I had tried to warn Luke earlier, but he did not listen. As the twentieth piece entered his mouth, my predictions turned into reality. After the ordeal, we cleaned up, loaded into the van, and started our journey once again.

After arriving at the hotel, another incident occurred. Luke and I awaited with eagerness
and impatience, our release into the promised waterpark. Perched at a prominent position at the entrance of the waterpark towered a thousand-gallon bucket of water. At the ring of a bell it dropped, releasing its fury onto the children’s heads. Grandpa stood alone, delegated as our guard and babysitter as Grandma and Mom abandoned him in the pursuit of tourist trinkets. Unaware of his impending fate, he heard the toll of the fateful bell. Seconds later, his seventy-year-old body rattled under the force of a thousand gallons of water emptying upon his unsuspecting frame. Glasses flew through the air, his camera splashed into the water, and he stood dumbfounded as Luke and I approached him with glee, shouting, “Grandpa, we didn’t know you wanted to swim too!”

Having satisfied their desires for cheap tourist souvenirs, Grandma and Mom stumbled upon the scene. Mom and Grandma’s face changed from disbelief into laughter within seconds. A few moments later, Grandpa began to laugh too, as he stumbled out of harm’s way. Although the trip had barely begun, two misfortunes had already plagued our idyllic presumptions. However, these stories have become some of my favorite memories.