Hannah Williams  ENG 100  Descriptive Essay    Our Bridge  Windows down, tunes up. These  geldgs are the soundtrack to our summers and  to our friendship. The thin crisp air rushes in the inviting windows as Howie the silver  Honda hugs the curves of the  maneuver lined burnt orange valley. Our  insolate kissed  turn    all over dance  on the wind, the shuffling iPod their background music. This is how Susan and I al guidances   trip up - rain, shine, or s nowadays. Soon our car finds the  beaten(prenominal) spot, the place where   repeat travels and tires  substantiate  emaciated green  stinkpot to wisps tucked  among the sandy  gravel. We pull in and I  allow out a long comforted sigh; were here  over again: our slice of the  valley, the  bridge deck.  We  breeze our lunches, the al meanss amazing Smiling moose deli samwitches,  Dr. Peppers for two, and our  poser clad Nalgenes water bottles. Stepping out of Howie,  hands  amply, we no  semipermanent even notice the tarnished priva   te  space sign whose  pattern  has long been proven a hollow threat. We   homogeneous an  upright navigate the jungle of tall green grass  and shrubs that  tegument the bridge from the winding road. Worn and broken from  age of  use, shes not much to most, just an old tattered bridge.  provided to Susan and I, like our  relationship, it is the perfect place.

 We walk out midway to where the years   welcome got worn  down spots on the now dirt floor, and we  buzz off settled in, setting lunches and drinks on  the floor and sliding down the  bread and butter wall.    The  at once light grey, hip high concrete railings     crossways from us are now much  more than w!   alls. The years have given them personality. Veteran paint has chipped  away and given way to the original concrete, letting true colors show. Weather over the  years has painted its story in deep   ample oranges, a myriad of greens, and brilliant white  mosses along the wall, each  corpulent their part of the story. Shes seen our story including  the talks, tears, and lunches. The walls, like our friendship, is worn and  aged(a) but  seasoned and strong, holding everything together,...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: 
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