A descriptive article about roadside mechanics.

1. Write a short essay of about 500 words to describe the mechanic in your eyes.

There is an open-air garage opposite my house. The mechanic is deaf and dumb. Although I pass by this garage every day after school, I have never really seen this mechanic. In my eyes, he is like a dead tree in the street, the grass on the roadside.

One winter night, the cold wind roared. I heard someone knocking at the door. When I opened the door, I saw a man in dirty and torn clothes standing at the door. His face was covered with putty-it was the mechanic. He kept gesticulating with his hands anxiously, and his mouth made a rapid "ah-ah" sound. I didn't understand him, and I was a little scared. I turned it off quickly.

In the evening, my father suddenly remembered that he had pushed his bike to the garage for repair at noon and had not brought it back yet. I remembered the scene of the mechanic knocking at the door, and suddenly understood that he was looking for the owner from door to door! My father and I ran to the garage and saw the mechanic standing in the dark cold wind, rubbing his hands, stamping his frozen feet and breathing in his hands from time to time. Dad's car is parked next to him. He quietly took the key out of his pocket and stuffed it into his father's hand. Dad held the mechanic's hand tightly and said, "Thank you so much! Lock the car and you can go home. Why not? The mechanic seems to understand something. Why did he take a pen out of his pocket with his frozen hand and write a few words on his palm: I'm afraid you will use the car at night.

My eyes are a little hot. The thought of him going door to door looking for his master and waiting for him in the biting cold wind suddenly made his image in my heart tall. The cold wind still howled, but when I looked back, he stood on the street like a green and noble pine and cypress.

2. the mechanic's appearance details composition I am most grateful to.

Every day when I go to school by bike, I always pass a tin hut. I used to ride it carelessly. But now when I pass by, I always look at the owner of that tin hut-a foreigner who repairs cars.

I remember one day soon after school started, I rode to school as usual. When I was about to ride to a crossroads, I felt that the tire was abnormal, so I got off and checked and found that the tire was punctured. Unfortunately, the tire was punctured at this time, so I was late for school. I was in a hurry when it suddenly occurred to me that there was a garage across the street, but the mechanic was a foreigner. I've heard grown-ups say before, "You can't let outsiders repair cars. These people run black shops. They don't charge a lot of money for it, but they repair some wrong things where there is no problem. " Thought of here, I hesitated again, but there was no other way, because there was only one garage nearby, so I had to admit that I was unlucky. Push the car into the trap. When the mechanic saw that I was coming to repair the car, he greeted me warmly. Knowing the bad condition of the car, he picked up the tools and repaired them quickly. He was quick with his hands and feet, and he repaired the car in three times five divided by two.

In the meantime, I waited anxiously. When all the cars were repaired, he was already sweating profusely. I asked, "How much is it?" "How much is what?" "Are you playing dumb? How much is it? " I said impatiently. "Forget it, this little problem, hurry to school!" I can't believe my ears, and a feeling of gratitude arises spontaneously. After thanking him quickly, I rode my newly-built car and arrived at school on time.

I used to be influenced by adults' prejudice against outsiders and mistakenly thought that outsiders were glib. I don't think so through this car repair.

When I passed the tin hut on my way to school today, I couldn't help but take a look at its owner, a foreigner who repaired cars.

Someone I'm grateful for.

I have played many different roles in my life: I am a daughter in front of my parents, a partner around my classmates, and a student in the eyes of teachers ... Among all these roles, I like being the daughter of my parents best, and their little love has accompanied me for more than ten years. How can I not be grateful?

Countless days and nights, the phone accompanied me to sleep, sweat accompanied me to study, and smile accompanied me to progress. ...

I still remember an incident that happened when I was very young. That day, I was sleeping under the covers, and suddenly I felt a huge heat, like a surging river. Gradually I felt sick and dizzy, and I couldn't help crying. My mother rushed in like a lost soul at this, looking at my red face and touching my forehead. My mother said to herself: it's broken, it's so hot! I quickly followed me to the hospital. I don't know, but I was shocked, 39.5℃! This was an amazing temperature for my little guy at that time. My mother opened it like crazy, took me to a blood test and prescribed medicine for me.

Not only did the temperature not drop, but it also rose slightly. Slowly, I lost consciousness, I lost my mind. My whole head is blank. I heard my mother say that I was really like a human being, with black nails and pale face, and there was no response. This scene scared my mother to death. When I regained consciousness, I saw my mother running around in a busy and embarrassed figure. When she asked me to take medicine with hot water, she was already a drop of water. I really don't know if it's sweat or tears. Under the meticulous care of my mother day and night, my condition has gradually improved, and I am more energetic and happier every day. From that day on, I fell in love with my beautiful and great mother more sincerely.

Although that experience has passed for a long time and many details have gradually faded away, only my mother's every move is still vivid. Now that I have grown up, I have always loved my mother deeply. This feeling is unforgettable.

There is a famous saying abroad-"Motherly love is the brightest light in the world, which illuminates the way forward for children." This sentence is deeply imprinted in my heart, and I have never forgotten it, because I have deeply experienced it many times. It is this little bit of love that condenses into my grateful heart.

I need it tonight. . Help translate it into English

Reward score: 5- Analysis time: 2008- 10-28 19:05.

The person I am most grateful to is my mother.

The person I am most grateful to in my life is my mother.

That personal experience made me understand that my mother loves me and loves me. That day, the English teacher kept us until the evening. After school, it rained heavily. The students have all left. What about me? Hey! It's all my fault that I didn't bring rain gear. "Mom and Dad, where are you?" Just when I was anxious, a familiar figure appeared in the rain curtain and staggered towards here. "It's mom!" A man knows his companion in a long journey and an inn. Only then did I know that my mother loved me the most. I quickly ran out of the classroom, rushed out of the school gate and threw myself into my mother's arms. My mother touched my face with cold hands, but I felt warm. I looked my mother up and down and found that she was soaked to the skin. Looking at her bloodshot eyes, a tear flowed into my mouth. Ah! I cried, and my face couldn't tell whether it was tears or rain. On the way home, my mother has been pushing an umbrella beside me, and most of my body is still outside.

In childhood dreams, as long as there is a mother around, even monsters are not afraid; When I was a child, my mother was the master of my children. My mother fed the rice, bought the pen and taught me the name ... My mother was omnipotent and great!

3. repairman

In this world, there are all kinds of people, including gatekeepers, fishermen and artists. These people all have their own posts and jobs. ...

However, among these people, I am most familiar with the mechanic in our alley.

His skin is dark and his face smells of lubricating oil. His weather-beaten face is covered with wrinkles, as if he had been tested many times in the century he spent.

Facing every customer, he always smiles and is all smiles.

What he often does is to mend tires for customers. When he repairs a tire, he always uses a screwdriver to pry open the outer tire and take out the leaking inner tube. Next, he quickly clamped the clamp on the pump to the valve core of the inner tube and pumped hard once, twice and three times. Next, he put the inflated inner tube into an iron basin filled with water, pressed it by hand and squeezed it one by one to observe the bubbles there. (PS: Where there is air bubble, there is air leakage. Finally, he filed the hole flat with a file, then cut a hole-like material from other unused tires, filed it flat and stuck it for a while, and then repaired it.

Of course, when he is not working, he will take care of tools, wash his black hands and sit on the sofa with his eyes closed. ...

In this era, it is really impossible without them!

4. An interview with a mechanic wrote 500 words "mechanic"-what a humble occupation, what a humble name.

I think he is the greatest man. Although the man I know is an ordinary mechanic, I deeply admire his superb technology and noble quality of helping others.

The old man is not tall, his back looks a little hunched, and his skin is dark and shiny because he has been exposed to the sun all day. His hands are rough, but wide and warm.

Although grandpa looks ordinary, he is skilled and helpful. Once, on a sunny morning, everyone rode happily to school.

Halfway through the ride, the car slowed down and made a "cheep, cheep" sound. I stopped the car, squatted down and looked at the tires, yeah! No, the tire is flat.

I'm as anxious as a cat on hot bricks-running around. I thought to myself: there are still ten minutes to go to class, and now the tire is flat. Anyway, go and fix the car first! I pushed my bike to a garage and shouted, "Grandpa, my bike is leaking (reproduced from banbao.cn, China). Please keep this sign. )

Come and help me fix it. "Grandpa came out with tools and saw that I was a student. He rushed over and checked the tires quickly. In less than two minutes, he has changed new tires.

I touched my pocket, looked at my reading bag, and said with a depressed face, "Grandpa, I'm.

Me. ""Stop it, you don't have any money, do you? Go to school quickly, or you will be late. "

Before I finished speaking, grandpa urged me to go to school. I looked at my grandfather and said, "I, or I'll go to school now and give you money after school, okay?" "It doesn't matter, you go to school first and give it when you have money."

"hmm." Grandpa touched my head with a rough hand and then went back to his pawnshop.

I can feel that the hand is so warm and wide, and it also contains hope for the flowers of the motherland. Although grandpa can't earn much money a day away from home, and his life is certainly not very rich, he has a helpful heart, which I will never forget.

I also want to be a helpful person and pass on the warmth he gave me.

5. The mechanic's composition is about 300 words "Master! You show me this car ... ""Master! Please mend the tire! " "ok!" In the biting cold wind, a man in a fur coat is fiddling with tires. A few drops of sweat hung on his forehead, and his dark arm was clutching the tire and soaking in the biting cold water. His hands are red with cold, and there are still several marks of frost crack. His body smelled of lubricating oil, and his weather-beaten face was covered with wrinkles. It seems that he has passed many tests over the years ... for many years, no matter when it is cold or hot, he will always come to the alley and wait for his garage to finish every job. He is a mechanic at the gate of our community.

He is always so kind in my memory, regardless of gains and losses. My car became a patient the other day-the chain was loose, the gas was insufficient, and the car broke down. At noon, I pushed the car into the garage, and he was seriously repairing an electric car. "Uncle ..." I gave a cry gently. He turned around and said, "Little girl, what happened to the car?" I pointed to the chain and said, "The chain is loose, and the car brace should be changed." He put down his work and went to the front of the car to start checking. He said, "ok, wait a minute, I'll check it for you." Just change the car bracket. " I didn't want to wait, so I said, "Uncle, should I leave my car here? I ride it when I go to school. " He readily agreed.

Time passed little by little, and it was time to go to school. I went to the car stall and found him sitting on the toolbox, eating the things in the bowl with two rough hands, and there were many cars left here next to him. I can't help but be surprised-it's long past dinner time. Seeing me coming, he put down his bowl and shouted to me, "Little girl, come and push the cart?" I said, "Yeah." Then I went to push my car, and his guilty voice came from behind: "Sorry, the car brace didn't have your model, so I didn't change it." I'll change it for you when the goods arrive! Your chain is too tight. Take a look at it. If you return it, I will repair it for you. "I said quickly," it doesn't matter. Ok ... Uncle, I have no money with me. My mother will give you money if she says it ... ""Oh, nothing. I didn't change the car support for you. How can I ask for your money? Give me money when I change your car bracket! "He has a simple smile on his face." You are busy with school! "I got on the bus and thanked him:" Thank you, uncle! " "Ride away soon. His voice came faintly behind him: "You're welcome, ride slowly ..."

Although he is just an ordinary mechanic, he is solving problems for many people every day and making contributions to society silently with his hard work. Watching him bend over to work, a feeling of admiration arises from my heart. Perhaps, in the eyes of others, he is like a grass on the roadside, inconspicuous, but in my heart, he is like a poplar, tall and straight. ...

Can you help me write a composition about the old man who repaired the car? Write about him. My grandfather is over 60 years old, tall, with a pair of eyes embedded in his wrinkled face. The proudest thing is that he has the quality of "never too old to learn".

That day, as soon as I walked into my door, I was pushed and pulled to the study by my grandfather. Baoshu pointed to an English word for advice: "Good granddaughter, how to pronounce this word?" I'm at a loss. How could grandpa ask me for English advice? It is true that the sun rises in the west. I won't know until I ask. It turns out that there have been several foreign guests recently. Grandpa learns English to prevent us China people from playing dumb in front of foreigners. I suddenly realized.

Mom asked grandma, "Dad, what's the matter? Learn English. " When grandma heard this, she was so angry that she couldn't fight. She quickly spit it out: "Today, she said she would go out to buy things, and then she bought things!" I actually bought an English book. Do you find it irritating? "

As soon as the voice fell, grandpa rushed in and shouted, "It's over, it's over." I wonder, grandpa, what's the hurry? I saw grandpa turn on the TV and tune it to 17. Fluent and sweet English was introduced to my ears. It turns out that grandpa still watches the English program "Into America" on time every day.

Grandpa is like this. He is "never too old to learn" and is an example for me to learn.

7. An old man who impressed me deeply by repairing cars wrote a composition. Among all the bubbles full of my good memories, one bubble is particularly big and gorgeous, and one person impressed me deeply-an old woman.

It's a sunny winter afternoon. I am on my way to the bookstore, and there are many pedestrians on both sides of the road. At this time, a young man dressed in fashion was eating a cake while walking, and then the wrapping paper of the next cake fell off. The paper floated low in the wind. I took a look and didn't answer it, thinking, "It's not mine anyway, it doesn't matter." Others just looked up at the paper falling to the ground bit by bit and didn't mean to pick it up. The original clean road suddenly has such a piece of waste paper, which is particularly conspicuous. But I walked into the bookstore by myself.

When buying books, I saw through the glass window that the plastic paper was still moving bit by bit with the wind. At this moment, an old lady on crutches came from a distance. She walked with difficulty, bent and hunched. The wind blew the paper on her feet. She lowered her head and looked around again. After a little hesitation, she bent down slowly and picked up the paper on the ground with her hands. Then I stood up bit by bit with my hands on the tree next to me, staggered to the trash can and carefully put the crumpled paper into the trash can. Immediately, she left casually again. I stood in front of the glass and watched her leave, and the aging back gave people a fragile feeling. When her figure disappeared into the sea of people, I realized that there were still many pedestrians on the roadside, just like me. I waited for a while and looked at the gray-haired old lady with admiration. I walked to the cashier with a book in my hand. I was ashamed of myself if I thought about it.

There will always be people or things that impress you everywhere in life. A drop of water can reflect the brightness of the sun. If you are a conscientious person, you will find lofty ideological quality and great spirit everywhere!

8. There is an open-air garage opposite the mechanic. The mechanic is deaf and dumb. Although I pass this garage every day after school, I have never really seen this mechanic. In my eyes, he is like a dead tree in the street and a piece of grass on the roadside. One winter evening, the cold wind roared. "Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. His face and hands are covered with putty. He kept gesticulating with his hands anxiously, and his mouth made a rapid "ah-ah" sound. I don't understand what he means, and I'm a little scared. I quickly closed the door. Through the door, I heard him knock on the neighbor's door again. In the evening, my father suddenly remembered that he had pushed his bike to the garage for repair at noon and had not brought it back. My father and I ran to the garage and saw the mechanic standing in the dark cold wind, rubbing his hands, stamping his frozen feet and breathing in his hands from time to time. Dad's car is parked next to him. He quietly took the key out of his pocket and stuffed it into his father's hand. Dad held the mechanic's hand tightly and said, "Thank you so much! Lock the car and you can go home. Why not? The mechanic seems to understand something. Why did he take a pen out of his pocket with his frozen hand and write a few words on his palm trembling: I'm afraid you need to use the car at night. My eyes are a little hot. I think of him going door to door looking for the owner, waiting for the owner in the biting cold wind. His image in my heart suddenly became tall. The cold wind is still howling. Looking back, he stood in the street like a green and noble pine and cypress.