Everyone in my family drives a different car. My mom's car is like a racecar, fast as lightning. As quiet as a mouse. My dad's car is as buff as a bodybuilder and runs like a trunk. My sister's car is as nice as an old phone, but faster- facing the wrong way. My car is as stocky as Jacob Lorbecki but moves magnifically down the empty street.  

All our cars move like butter, one either sitting in the driveway roasting like a peanut in the summer, or getting as cold as a baby penguin in the winter. My car smells as if I just got out of practice, while my mom's car makes it seem like you just drove out of the dealership. My dad's truck trunk is bigger than my sister's car, but my sister's car moves more agile adjusting down the road.