October 3, 2011
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One crisp,colorful fall morning when I was only four years old, my dad and I were on our way to town. We were only half way down the ,gravel,drive way when dad slowed down and got out and ran back to the house. My dad had forgotten something. So he left his big black truck running with me in it all alone. I hopped as fast as i can in the driver’s seat and backed my dad’s truck up to the old white garage. Even though I was only four I dreamed of driving that truck. When my dad came out of the house, he had a surprised look on his face. He didn't know how I moved the truck. But I did! That was my first driving experience.

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