中國網站品牌欄目（頻道）
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My earliest memories are of pointing to the sky, having detected the far-off drone of a piston engine. Dad had been a pilot since before I was born. He flew a pea-green Cessna 172 from Rialto Municipal in Southern California. I can remember with crystal clarity those lazy Saturday afternoons at the airport, helping him push back the big hangar doors and leaning my small weight against the airplane’s struts as he pulled it into the sun. I read him checklists, learning words like “aileron,” “magnetos,” and “pitot” that no one else in my first-grade class knew. I drew airplanes and helicopters all over every piece of paper I could find, proudly telling Dad that I was going to grow up to be a “helicopter designer.” I went to the library, looked up the addresses of every aircraft manufacturer I could think of, and sent them packets of drawings. (Grumman was the only one that responded, with a very nice letter and some glossy 8-by-10-inch photos of fighters.) But, as a teenager, I had “better” things to do than hang out at the airport. I turned down invitations to fly out for breakfast—that would require getting up too early on weekend mornings. Eventually, I graduated from high school and moved away for college, beginning to build my life in a new city. I saw Dad less and less frequently. He talked occasionally about flying out to visit me, but then he fell ill and sold the plane. At 75 years of age, he was grounded. Over the next few years his health deteriorated further. He lost weight, and his energy flagged. When I did see him, he often sat slumped in his chair in a defeated pose I’d never encountered before. And then, one morning, I got the call that the ambulance had come in the middle of the night to take him away. I rushed to the hospital and met, for the first time, a thin, sad figure that I hardly recognized as my father—so different from the strong, robust figure of my childhood. I drove him home that day, driving as carefully as I could, and knew that he was weak when he never once bothered to comment on my driving! That night I told my wife about how much I regretted passing up the opportunity to fly more with Dad when I’d had the chance. I mentioned that in the back of my mind, I’d always thought that I’d become a pilot someday. I’d just never done anything about it. A few weeks later, for Valentine’s Day, she surprised me with an introductory flight at a local flight school. I grinned like a chimp as I climbed into the school’s Piper Cherokee. When the Lycoming engine barked to life, it was as if a spark had jumped a gap in my heart—the love, vigor, and excitement of my childhood came rushing back. As the instructor led me through some simple maneuvers, I realized that flying had to be part of my life again. The instructor complimented me on how comfortable I seemed in the sky and how sure my movements were—I told him that I’d done this before. Before I left the airport that day, I bought a logbook and had the instructor sign the first line. I was working an evening shift at the time, so I worked flying lessons into my morning schedule. Within three months, I had my private pilot certificate and was as happy as I’d ever been. But by then, Dad’s condition had gotten worse. His energy was very low. I’d told Mom about the flying lessons, but I didn’t tell Dad—I wanted it to be a surprise. Dad still liked to go to the airport now and then to watch the airplanes and perhaps chat with some of the pilots. Mom told me about a fly-in breakfast that was coming up and said she would make sure he’d be there. When the day came, I took to the air, flying the one-hour cross-country to my hometown. As I taxied from the runway to transient parking, I found Mom leading Dad across the ramp toward me. The first words out of his mouth were, “Why didn’t you tell me?” I laughed and gave him a hug. The next thing he said was a string of admonishments—“Always watch the weather. Don’t spend too much money. Always be careful taxiing. Take the time to do a proper preflight.” Once I heard his strict tone, I knew that the old Dad was back, if only for the day. Mom coaxed him into the cockpit, and I gingerly steered the plane onto the same runway that was featured so heavily in my favorite childhood memories. With a roar the Cherokee pulled us into the air, and a trip around the pattern rushed by all too quickly. On final, I asked him if he wanted to go around again. Feeling the stress of the flight, he declined. I let the plane down gently, pulled off the runway, and taxied back to parking. Mom and I helped him climb down the Cherokee’s wing, and Mom asked him about the flight. “Sure, David’s a good pilot,” he said. Coming from him, this was high praise. In the months that followed, he weakened further. I took any opportunity I could to visit him, even as his speech and breathing became labored. We discussed where I’d flown recently, and he told me stories of notable trips he’d taken. He continued to warn me about the hazards of not watching the weather, a lesson I’ve taken to heart. Dad passed away about four months after the fly-in. My first flight ever had been as his passenger, and his last flight had been as mine. I continued to revisit the little Southern California airports that we’d been to together. At Apple Valley, an airport in the desert northeast of Los Angeles, a restaurant wall is decorated with handwritten messages from 60 years’ worth of pilots who’ve passed through. Names and dates fight for space on the long, painted brick expanse. I remembered this place. I wondered if I’d written anything there. I spent 15 minutes searching the wall, trying to find my own name. Instead, I found Dad’s—dated five years before I was born. The ink had faded over the decades, and the name was partially covered by newer additions. I borrowed a marker from the waitress and inked over his signature, smiling as I recognized his familiar scrawl. I colored in his name and date, and then added my own beneath it. Mine was a little bit smaller, a little bit newer, a little bit sloppier—but it was right next to Dad’s. |
我能回憶起的最早的事情就是指著天空，耳邊傳來遠處的活塞引擎的轟鳴聲。在我出生之前，父親就已經是一位飛行員了。他駕駛著一架豆綠色的塞斯納172飛機從南加州的里亞爾托市飛過來。我還清晰地記得那些在飛機場度過的懶洋洋的周六下午，幫他把巨大的機庫艙門推回去，父親把飛機停在太陽下的時候，我就把小小的身體靠在飛機支架上。 我給他念設備清單，學會了很多其他一年級學生都不認識的詞，像“副翼”、“磁發電機”和“空速管”。我在能夠找到的每張紙上都畫滿了飛機和直升機，還自豪地告訴父親我長大后要當“直升機設計師”。我跑去圖書館查找我所能想到的所有飛機制造商的地址，給他們寄去一包包我畫的草圖。（格魯曼公司是唯一給我回復的公司，寄給我一封很親切的信，還有幾張8×10英寸的殲滅機的光面照片。） 但是，作為一名十幾歲的少年，我還有比在機場閑逛更“好”的事情要做。我拒絕了父親開飛機去吃早飯的邀請，因為那樣的話周末要起的很早。接下來，我中學畢業，去外地上大學，開始在新的城市生活。我越來越不能常看到父親了。他偶爾會談起飛過來看我，但隨后他生病了，并賣掉了飛機。七十五歲那年，他結束了飛行生涯。 接下來的幾年里，他的健康狀況更加惡化了。他日漸消瘦，精力也不濟了。我看到他的時候，他萎靡地靠在椅子里，那副蕭索的姿態是我以前從未見過的。 然后，一天早晨，我接到電話，得知他在半夜被救護車接走了。我沖到醫院，第一次看到一個瘦弱悲傷的身影，幾乎認不出那是我的父親——他和我童年時那個身體強壯、精力充沛的形象是如此不同。那天我開車送他回家，一路上竭盡所能得小心翼翼。我知道他很虛弱，因為他都不再費神評價我的駕駛技術了！那天夜里，我告訴妻子，多么后悔當初沒有抓住機會多和父親出去飛行。我對她說，在我心靈深處，一直認為有一天自己會成為一名飛行員。但我卻從來沒有向那方面努力。 幾周后的情人節那天，妻子給了我一個驚喜：當地飛行學校的駕駛入門課。登上學校的派珀?切諾基飛機時，我笑得開心極了。萊康明引擎開始隆隆作響的時候，我心里仿佛有一朵火花倏地一閃——童年時的熱愛、活力和激動統統回來了。 教練教給我一些簡單的操作技術的時候，我意識到，飛行要重新成為我生命的一部分了。教練稱贊我在空中絲毫都不緊張，動作也很穩——我告訴他我以前也這樣做過。 那天離開機場前，我買了一本飛行日志，并讓教練寫下了第一行。那時我上的是夜班，所以就把飛行課放在了早晨。三個月的時間里，我拿到了自己的個人飛行員證書，高興得不得了。 但是彼時，父親的健康狀況更加惡化了。他精神非常不好。我已經把上飛行課的事告訴了母親，但還沒有告訴父親——我想把它當作一個驚喜。 父親仍然喜歡不時地去機場看看飛機，可能還會和某位飛行員聊聊天。母親告訴我，不久會有個清晨飛行聚餐，還說她會確保父親到時會去。到了那一天，我駕駛飛機飛了一個小時，來到了家鄉。我在跑道上滑行到臨時停機場時，看到母親帶著父親穿過停機坪，來到我跟前。 他吐出的第一句話是，“你為什么沒有告訴我？”我大笑著擁抱了他。 接下來他給了我一連串的警告——“一定要注意天氣。別花太多錢。滑行時一定要小心。飛行前要好好準備。”一聽到他嚴厲的口吻，我知道，原來的父親回來了，即使只有這一天。 母親勸他進了駕駛艙，我小心翼翼地把飛機駛入我兒時印象最深的那條跑道。切諾基飛機轟鳴著把我們帶到空中，很快就繞航道飛了一圈。最后，我問他還想不想再飛一圈。感到飛行的壓力，他拒絕了。我穩穩地降落了飛機，駛離跑道，滑行回了停機場。 母親和我扶著他下了機翼，母親問他飛行的感受。“當然，大衛是個不錯的飛行員，”他說。從他嘴里說出這話，真是很高的評價。 接下來的幾個月里，他狀況更加不好了。我找到一切可能的機會去看他，甚至在他說話和呼吸都很費力的時候。我們聊著我最近飛行的地方，他告訴我他經歷過的精彩的飛行。他不斷告誡著我要注意天氣變化帶來的危險，這些我已銘記于心。距那次飛行幾個月后，父親去世了。我人生的第一次飛行就是作為父親的乘客，而他的最后一次飛行，是我的乘客。我一次次地回到我們一起飛行的南加州那個小小的飛機場。 在蘋果谷，洛杉磯東北部沙漠中的一個機場，一面旅店的墻上貼著60年來經過此地的飛行員的手跡。那面長長的，油漆過的磚墻上，擠滿了層層疊疊的名字和日期。我記得這個地方。我想知道我是否曾在那寫過什么。 我花了15分鐘在那面墻上細細搜尋，試圖找到我自己的名字。然而，我找到的卻是父親的名字，日期在我出生五年前。 過了幾十年的時間，墨跡已經變淡了，這個名字也已經一半被更新的名字遮住了。我從女侍者那里借了一支簽字筆，把他的簽名描了一遍。我認出了他那熟悉而潦草的筆跡，一直微笑著。我把他的名字和日期描得更深一些，然后在下面添上了我自己的名字。我的要更小一點，也更新一點，也更潦草——但它就在父親名字的旁邊。 （來源：英語學習雜志） |
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Vocabulary: 1. Cessna 172: 賽斯納172是歷史上最成功產量最多的小型飛機。 2. Grumman: 諾思羅普?格魯曼公司,美國主要的航空航天飛行器制造廠商之一。 3. Piper Cherokee: 派珀?切諾基，派珀飛機公司制造的一種4座單引擎小飛機。 4. fly-in: 事先安排好的個人飛機駕駛員間的非正式的聚會。 |
