I sat in my parents’ car. Mom had insisted I go with her to pick up Dad from work. Across from Dad’s office is a bike store. That was the day my eleven-year-old eyes first saw the purple BMX Mongoose bike. From that day on, all I could think about was that bike. I even drew pictures of the bike in class. Every evening afterward, at five thirty, I eagerly went along with Mom to get Dad.
And every day I told my parents, “I want that bike!” But they disagreed and replied that I had already had a perfectly good bike at home. I’d argue it was old and ugly, thinking that my happiness depended on that purple bike. Days later, I found the store had sold that bike. I knew I’d never be happy again.
A week later, returning home from school, I tripped over something. Lying in the weeds near a river and some wooded lots, was a bike — the exact bike from the store. “Hey, whose bike is this?” I shouted, scanning the area. No one replied, and there was no one in sight. Maybe its owner didn’t want it any longer. I couldn’t leave it lying in the weeds. So I took it home and hid it behind the garage. Every day after school, I sat there, admiring it. But I didn’t feel like riding and didn’t feel as happy as I had thought. Thinking about the bike made my stomach tighten and uncomfortable.
A few days later, during lunch at school, my friend said, “Did you hear about Tyler, in the other fifth-grade class? He lost his new purple BMX Mongoose bike he had just gotten for his birthday. He left it by a river while playing in the woods. It got dark, and he couldn’t find it.”
“I’d never go off and leave a new bike like that. He doesn’t deserve to have that bike,” I replied. My friend added, “Kids say he’s nice. And they say Tyler is upset because his dad worked overtime to buy the bike for him.” For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Tyler.
注意：1.续写词数应为150左右;
2.请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。
After school, I returned home and dragged to my room.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________“I know Tyler’s house,” Mom said. “I’ll drive you there.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________I was never a fast runner and thus I always didn’t like running. Throughout my childhood, whenever we competed in the 50-meter run, the 400-meter, or any other type of race, I would finish in the bottom half. In my late teens, as a member of a baseball team, I was the slowest runner on the team. In the preseason training, I was always the one running by myself at the end.
Therefore, twenty years later, when I entered my first official running race — a 3,000-meter challenge in my city — at age 38, I certainly didn’t expect to win or come close to winning.
I was there because my college friend Jim Hosek was the director of the race, and he asked me to run. The race was aimed at raising money for the unfortunate patients in a hospital and encouraging the patients and their fanilies to be brave, determined, and confident with sportsmanship.
It was a heartwarming program.I wanted to support it, so I showed up, paid the entrance fee, had a number pinned (把……别住) on my back, and moved over to the starting line. There, I waited with about 300 other runners for the race to begin. I was nervous. Would I be the last one to finish a race again? Could I even finish the race? I wondered.
Before long, someone spoke into a microphole, “Anyone weighing over 200 pounds comes down to the scale (秤), please.” Knowing I was over 200 pounds, I walked down to the scale. A man told me to stand on it. “Two hundred and three pounds,” he said. Then he wrote down the race number that was on my back. Out of curiosity, I asked him why he did so,and then I was told there would be an award ceremony (仪式) after the race. One award was for the first finisher in the over 200-pound group, and this special award would be announced at the end of the ceremony.
Not expecting the award, I ran towards the starting line, never realizing there were only two runners weighing over 200 pounds.
Paragraph 1:Soon after, the race started.
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Paragraph 2:
Then came the last award, and to my surprise, my name was announced.
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