Out of interest (and extreme boredom), I've decided to start up my own story. I'm not exactly an ace at this, so and comments and Positive criticism would be helpful. Chapter 1: An Introduction Announcer: "Well folks, we are on the final lap of this years' Grand Prix of Endurance in Le Mans, France. It looks like the Audi's have this one... WAIT, WAIT A MINUTE! Coming through the Porsche curves is the #2 Peugeot, driven by none other than Greg Johnson!" "The American is the youngest driver to win the American Le Mans Series Championship at just 19 years of age! He's stormed past the first two Audi's, but Tom Kristensen isn't giving in! Coming through to the finish line, they're neck and neck, and the winner will be..." BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP! "HUH! What the heck?!" Automated Voice: "Wake up, lazy-butt!" "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Hello. As you may of already figured out, I'm Johnson, Greg Johnson. I'm 18 years old, and there's two things I really like: Cars, and learning about World War 2. Doesn't make much sense, but oh well. I have been racing since I got my Operator's License, and have been enjoying it ever since. Legal racing, that is. This is my place. I live in a suburb about 50 minutes away from New York City. (BTW, avoid The Bronx AT ALL COSTS, or else you'll wake up with your leg hurting like crazy and your watch will be gone). "Gahh, hagarh." And that's the sound of me waking up at 9:00 AM. As I lift myself up out of bed, I hear the sound of crying. What could it be, an intruder? Something stolen? TV: "Pablo, ¿cómo podría, después de todo lo que hemos pasado!" Nope, it's my mom and sister going through the usual morning ritual of watching Early-morning Spanish soap-operas. I look on the wall and stare at an ancient M18 recoilless rifle. "So tempting...Must...not...destroy television...or living room..." It's honestly the most annoying thing on our TV. Anyway, where was I? My grandfather was a WWII veteran, and when he passed my father looked after some of the weapons he brought home, most of which were extermly dangerous, so it only made sense that as a young I child I would play with them when nobody was looking. At around 11:00 AM, after eating breakfast, the soaps were finally over. "(Sniff) So sad..." "Yeah, something's sad, alright..." This is my sister, Sam. "Maybe you should watch with us sometime." "I'd honestly rather have Soulja Boy pulling clothespins from my ears while singing 'Swag On.'" I'm usually a nice guy, but will tell it like it is. Right at that moment, I heard someone banging on our door, like as if they were being chased by our neighbors' Pit Bull. "PJ, what's the matter man?" "Dude, don't you know what time it is?!" "Dang, I totally forgot! Bye guys! Me and PJ are going down to the track!" "Hey man, wait for me!" End of Chapter 1.