《the cab ride i'll never forget》这篇文章的翻译
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发布时间：2024-09-28 08:57
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时间：2024-10-03 22:31
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy's life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn't realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh and weep.
二十年前，我已开出租车谋生。它是那种牛仔的生活，为那些不想有老板的人的一种生活。我没有意识到的是那也是一种类似牧师的职责。因为我换晚上的班开车，我的出租车变成了一个移动的忏悔室。乘客上车，全部匿名坐在我后面，告诉我他们的生活。我偶然会遇见一些人，他们的生活使我感到吃惊，使我产生敬意，使我快乐，使我哭泣。
But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night.
然而没有人会比我在8月份晚上接的一位女士更触动我。
I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town.
我正在回应一个来自坐落于镇中清净地段的一套小砖块公寓楼的电话。我很惊讶会被派去接一些社交常客，或者是刚刚和情人吵完架的人，或者是在小镇工业区的某个工厂上早班的领导。
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under such circumstances, many drivers just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
当我早上2点30分到达时，除了一楼有灯光从窗户中射出，整个建筑物都是黑的。在这样的情况下，许多司机可能只仅仅按一两下喇叭，等一分钟，然后开车离开。但是我见过很多穷困的人，他们仅依靠出租车作为他们意义上的交通工具。除非形式有危险的气味，我通常会走上门去。这个乘客可能像那些需要我帮助的人，我给自己找理由。所以我走上门去，敲了敲。
"Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
“等一下，”一个虚弱的，年长的声音回答。我可以听到某种东西在地上被拖拉的声音。在很长时间的停顿之后，门被打开了。我看到一个80岁左右的女士站在我面前，她穿了一件印花布裙子，戴了一顶别着面纱的平顶小圆帽，像1940年的电影里走出来的人物。在她旁边是一个小的尼龙质的行李箱。房子看起来像好几年没有人住过的样子。所有的家具都被被单覆盖着。墙上没有钟表，柜子上没有小摆设和用具。角落里的纸箱装满了照片和玻璃器皿。
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated." "Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Can you drive through downtown?" "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
"你能将我的行李提到车上吗?"她说。我将行李提上出租汽车，然后回去帮助这位女士，她扶着我的手臂，我们缓慢的向路边走去。她不停的的感谢我的善良。“不用谢（这没什么），”我告诉她，“我只是用我想对待我母亲的方式对待每一位乘客。”“你是个好孩子，”她说。当我们上了车，她给了我一个地址，然后问“你能开车穿过市中心吗？”“这不是最近的路”，我快速的回答，“哦，我不介意”，她说“我不着急，我只是去敬老院。”
I looked in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
我从后视镜中看到，她的眼睛因湿润而发亮。“我已经没有家人了”她继续说，“医生说我不会活太久。”
