As the article articulates very well, my advice when writing descriptive essays is always to show and not tell. In order to captivate the reader, describing an event with sensory details is very important. This will come in handy in any creative writing that you do or on your application essays. When experimenting with describing imagery, make sure to avoid doing two things: focusing on too many details at once and using too many adjectives and adverbs. If you are describing actions, then adverbs are your worst enemy. Attempt to replace them whenever you write anything creative or descriptive. Besides, when you write descriptively make sure to pick out details that are very important to the story to focus the reader’s attention on particular points. For example, if you are writing a descriptive essay about your camping trip, you would probably be describing the trip as opposed to the sky or the birds. Best of luck writing your descriptive essay and remember: show, not tell!

After half an hour of searching for a mechanic to fix our broken-down car, I happened upon a small garage with open shutters and noise coming from it.

The garage was a dilapidated structure with multiple cracks running down the length of the walls. It stood on a newly cemented floor which had already become dirty from the many leaking petrol pipes that have visited the garage. On the floor was a mass of unorganized nuts and bolts, all of which were black from dirt and grease. Old wooden shelves lined the walls, some of which were bent from the weight of the multitude of metal tools and gears resting upon them; the tools were arranged in no particular order and the gears scattered even more so. Below the shelves were stacks of tires and rims that were too far in a state of disrepair, with holes in the rubber and rust on the metal. There was also a small air pump on the ground beside the rims that had a wire, which was barely intact, connected to a power source on the wall beside it. The plastic on the socket had broken and the wire was connected manually with tape, with some strands of bare copper wire exposed. On the far side of the room were the remains of what probably used to be a hydraulic lift, with many pipes strewn around it, wet from the blue liquid that leaked from them. Two windows were on the far wall with dirty blurred glass. In the middle of the room was the chassis of a decrepit car with no wheels or wind screens, and sections of the body where the paint had scraped off. The vehicle was rested on stacks of bricks so as to elevate it to allow room for work. Surprisingly, the engine was running, albeit with a creaking sound that mimicked the groan of a dying cow.

Working below the car was a potbellied man who was humming the chorus of "The Final Countdown", seemingly oblivious to my existence. He wore torn overalls which had tattered near the ankles and with oil splotches  on the knees. His shirt had grease all over its red hue, now resembling more of a brown color. He had dark skin and oil slicked hair. His nose was blunt and his lips bloated; his eyes were fixated on the axle he was working on. He was working barefoot and one could see the dirt under his feet and toenails. He worked recklessly, loudly banging the car as he did so.

The smell of paint and petrol invaded my nostrils as I decided to call out to the mechanic, who did not seem as capable as the name of his profession suggested.