■难忘的出租车之旅
The Cab Ride I’ll Never Forget
◎Kent Nerburn/肯特·纳尔本
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk[13] once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished[14] 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.
“Just a minute,” answered a frail[15], elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80’s 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.
名人语库
～Jacobus Johannes Leeuw
——雅各布斯·约翰内斯·莱乌
20年前，我是一名出租车司机。一天深夜，我驾车前往一座房子去接客人。到达时，房子里漆黑一片，只有底层的一扇窗户里透出一盏灯的光亮。
在这样的情况下，很多司机只会鸣一两次喇叭，等上几分钟，然后就驱车离去。但我见过很多贫穷的人们，他们依赖出租车作为唯一的交通工具。除非我感觉情况危险，否则我总是会走上门去。我心想，这位乘客可能需要我的帮助，于是，我走到门前，敲了敲门。
“稍等片刻。”一个虚弱而苍老的声音回答道。
我能听见什么东西在地板上拖曳的声音。又过了很长时间，门打开了。一位80多岁的小个子老太太站在我面前。她身穿一件印花裙，头戴一顶别有面纱的小圆帽，仿佛从20世纪40年代的老电影里走出来似的。她的身边有只尼龙手提箱。
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.
“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, “Could 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.”
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
“I don’t have any family left,” she continued.“The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.“What route would you like me to take?” I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m
这座公寓看起来似乎已经多年无人居住。所有家具都用被单盖着，墙上没有挂时钟，柜子上也没有摆放装饰品和器皿。房子一角有一只纸箱，里面装满了照片和各式玻璃器具。
“你能帮我把包抬到车上去吗？”她问。我把手提箱放进车里，然后走回来帮助老太太。她扶着我的胳膊，慢慢地朝路边走去。她不停地感谢我友善的帮助。
“这没什么，”我跟她说，“我只不过用我所希望的别人对待我母亲的方式来对待我的乘客罢了。”
“哦，你是多好的一个孩子啊。”她说。我们上车后，她给了我一个地址，然后问我：“你能不能开车穿过市中心？”
“这可不是最近的路呀！”我很快地回答说。
“哦，我不介意的，”她说，“我不赶时间。我要去趟护理所。”
我看了看后视镜，她的眼睛里闪着晶莹的光芒。
“我的家人都不在了，”她继续说，“医生说我的时间也不多了。”
我静静地伸手关掉计价器。“你想让我走哪条路线？”我问。
在接下来的两个小时里，我们开车穿越了整座城市。她带我看了她曾经做过电梯操作员的那栋大楼。我们开车经过了她和丈夫刚结婚时居住的街区。她还让我在一家家具仓库门前停车，那里曾是一家舞厅，当她还是个姑娘时常常去那里跳舞。
有时，她会叫我在某栋房子或某个街角放慢车速，她坐在那里，眼睛睁得大大的，盯着眼前的一片漆黑，一言不发。
随着天边的太阳慢慢爬上地平线，露出最初的一丝光亮，她突然说
tired. Let’s go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent[16] home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered.
“There are other passengers.”
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said.“Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
道：“我累了，咱们走吧。”
我朝她给我的地址开去，车内一片沉寂。
那是一座低矮的建筑，就像一座小型疗养院，有一条车道在门廊下穿过。我们刚停下车，两名疗养员就走上前来。他们殷勤又热心，细心地看着她的一举一动。他们一定是在等待她的到来。我打开后备箱，把那只小手提箱送到门边。这时，老太太已经坐在轮椅上了。
“我应该给你多少钱呢？”她问道，一边伸手到钱包里取钱。
“不用啦。”我说。
“你还得生活呀。”她回答说。
“还有其他乘客呢。”
几乎不假思索地，我弯下腰来拥抱了她。她也紧紧地抱着我。
“你给一位老人带来了片刻的欢乐，”她说，“谢谢你。”
我捏了捏她的手，然后转身走向屋外淡淡的晨曦。在我身后，传来一扇门关闭的声音，仿佛那是生命即将结束的声音。
在那趟班上，我没再载任何客人。我漫无目的地开着车，陷入了深深的沉思中。那天，我几乎很少开口说话。如果去接老太太的是一名愤怒的司机，或者是一名不耐烦的急着交班的司机，结果会怎样？如果我拒绝老人载她四处看看的要求，或者我只鸣了一次喇叭就开车离去，结果又会怎样？
我快速地回顾了一下自己的人生，觉得这是我做过的最重要的一件事。我们习惯性地认为我们的生活总是被各种伟大的时刻所围绕着；但是，伟大的时刻常常在我们不经意间就悄然而至，并巧妙地包裹着很多人以为不足为奇的平常外衣。