<p>seeing that decisions have already been made, i'll be the first to post my essay for the RDers or whoever else. It's no longer proprietary intellectual property...:) umm..sorry the program on this computer butchered it..</p>
<p>“Diamond in The Roughâ€</p>
<pre><code> My vehicle and I (if you would be so kind as to call it a vehicle) share many qualities. You might say that we are alike in many ways . . .
The back end of my 1985 Ford F-150 doesn't budge; it’s as sturdy as the Rock of Gibraltar. The paint particles, on the other hand, have joined together to form a collage of white with brown trimming (the rust). Even I am no longer quite sure whether my truck (what remains of its 21-year-old body) has any definite discernible color . . . The mirror constantly needs adjusting. In summer, I do not permit the windows to be rolled up (yes, rolled up) for any extended period of time—with no air conditioning, I fear for the safety of even the bravest of souls bearing the brunt of the summer’s sun’s wrath. I am, however, proud to say that my F-150 is equipped with a “keyless†ignition—that’s right, I just twist the key knob, no key required, and go . . .
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<p>My deepest condolences go to the poor fossils that were unfortunately “sacrificed†over the millennia in order for my F-150 to function (last week, oil hit $74 per barrel—I suppose the fossil fuels are exacting a measure of revenge). My truck recently passed state inspections, suggesting that someone upstairs likes me. I believe my truck would make an excellent prop in a shoot -'em-up movie; indeed, leasing out my “prop†could have made me very wealthy. If I were paid one American dollar for every mile this truck has been driven, [as of August 2006] I'd be worth about $200,000. As you can probably see, my F-150 has endured a long, rough, and rugged road. So what qualifies my truck to be featured in a college application essay? Like me, its engine was rebuilt three years ago... </p>
<p>Winter of 2003 was a difficult time in my life. I remember the tears that welled up in my eyes at the thought of my predicament. I remember precisely—the freezing nights and the crushing despair. My parents' divorce came suddenly—without warning and without explanation. Just as suddenly, the heat and hot water were disconnected. My mother could not afford to pay the mortgage and to buy groceries. She chose to buy groceries. It was a bad time to be without heat, and the worst time imaginable to be a 15-year-old. It was the winter of my discontent: I learned that the test of human strength could sometimes be inexplicably brutal. Yet, I also learned that human strength, by its very nature, is malleable—it bends and twists, much like the branches of a tree, in resistance to the winds of adversity. I learned that my greatest strength—forged by an encounter with an evil winter wind—was inner resolve; and throughout the most vicious of storms, my resolve would remain unbowed. As a result, my determination and persistence have increased ten-fold. I have grown stronger when many, buffeted by similar ill winds, would have crumpled.</p>
<pre><code> Like me, my 1985 F-150's engine was overhauled three years ago—about the same time my parents' divorce taught me the strength of character. The truck was sold to me at a bargain—$500—and it still runs strong. On the surface, judged only by appearances, my truck may not be the finest thing on the road—but it runs just as well. I, like my truck, with its outer dents and scratches, house a rebuilt drive and stand ready for the next challenge.
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