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This is a decriptive Narrative Done For â€Å"Mom?† Jeff hesitantly asked. â€Å"Jeff where the hell are you?† She replied. â€Å"I’m downtown tonight. My car was impounded and I think my life is over as I know it.† He managed to get out before his sobs filled the phone line. â€Å"I’m coming down there to get you. Oh, so you know, your ass is grass.† She yelled before she slammed the phone like a hammer on the head of a nail. Earlier that year on his seventeenth birthday Jeff’s parents bought him a brand new Honda Civic. He didn’t waste any time putting most of the money he saved into his new pride and joy. He spent nearly four thousand dollars accessorizing his vehicle. He began by putting new wheels, lowering the suspension and upgrading the factory engine. Before long Jeff had the nicest car among his peers around town. He soon got caught into the street-racing fad like it was an addictive drug. After he started bringing in money from winning races he figured this was an excellent opportunity to upgrade even more things on his car. On a foggy August night Jeff rode out with his friends to their local meeting place on Wards Road. Tonight Jeff’s friend Mike said that there was a few extra people coming tonight that had heard Jeff was almost unbeatable. Mike told him that they would be arriving there in ten minutes. Just as Mike had said, ten minutes later a train of cars begin to pull in to the parking lot of the Food Lion that they were parked at. â€Å"Mike I thought you said it was a few? Not like twenty.† Jeff hastily said. â€Å"Well I was told it was only going to be a few people. My bad, I’ll make sure next time this won’t happen.† Mike responded. Out of the first car stepped someone that looked like he was fresh out of jail. His beat up white skin had scars from obvious scraps with enemies and his stature reminded Jeff of a lineman from the NFL. He and all o... Free Essays on Done For Free Essays on Done For This is a decriptive Narrative Done For â€Å"Mom?† Jeff hesitantly asked. â€Å"Jeff where the hell are you?† She replied. â€Å"I’m downtown tonight. My car was impounded and I think my life is over as I know it.† He managed to get out before his sobs filled the phone line. â€Å"I’m coming down there to get you. Oh, so you know, your ass is grass.† She yelled before she slammed the phone like a hammer on the head of a nail. Earlier that year on his seventeenth birthday Jeff’s parents bought him a brand new Honda Civic. He didn’t waste any time putting most of the money he saved into his new pride and joy. He spent nearly four thousand dollars accessorizing his vehicle. He began by putting new wheels, lowering the suspension and upgrading the factory engine. Before long Jeff had the nicest car among his peers around town. He soon got caught into the street-racing fad like it was an addictive drug. After he started bringing in money from winning races he figured this was an excellent opportunity to upgrade even more things on his car. On a foggy August night Jeff rode out with his friends to their local meeting place on Wards Road. Tonight Jeff’s friend Mike said that there was a few extra people coming tonight that had heard Jeff was almost unbeatable. Mike told him that they would be arriving there in ten minutes. Just as Mike had said, ten minutes later a train of cars begin to pull in to the parking lot of the Food Lion that they were parked at. â€Å"Mike I thought you said it was a few? Not like twenty.† Jeff hastily said. â€Å"Well I was told it was only going to be a few people. My bad, I’ll make sure next time this won’t happen.† Mike responded. Out of the first car stepped someone that looked like he was fresh out of jail. His beat up white skin had scars from obvious scraps with enemies and his stature reminded Jeff of a lineman from the NFL. He and all o...