Sun-Powered Car
by
Robert Burton Robinson
It was just another lousy day in the life of a has-been TV news reporter.
Malcolm was past his prime. And at age 57, he’d long ago given up on his dream of sitting in the anchor chair. But the assignments he’d been getting recently were just downright degrading. It was a three-hour drive back to the city. He was starving. Weren’t there any McDonalds in this crummy little town? He decided to stop at the next restaurant he saw—no matter what it looked like.
Helen’s Hamburgers: the best burgers in town, the sign read. Malcolm suspected that Helen’s might be the only burger joint in town. The fact the there were no cars parked in front made him hesitate. He checked his watch. It was only 11:00 AM—too early for most lunchers. He parked his car and got out. Just as he was about to go inside, he heard something coming down the street. It was too noisy to be a bicycle, yet too quiet to be a car. He turned around.
The brakes squeaked on the 1957 Chevy Bel Air 4-door hardtop as it pulled in behind his car. It was in decent shape for a 50-year-old car. But an odd-looking luggage rack had been bolted to the top of the thing. Malcolm hated to see a great classic car defiled like that. But why was the engine so quiet? Then he realized that the flat thing on top of the car was not a luggage rack—it was a solar panel.
A man wearing overalls got out of the driver’s seat. Two husky twenty-something guys in jeans, T-shirts and boots got out of the back seat. Malcolm held the door for them. The older man thanked him. The three men took a seat at a round table near the front window. Malcolm picked a spot several tables away.
A woman in her mid-forties wearing a flowery 1950’s style day dress walked to the men’s table. “Howdy, Ned. How are you boys doing today?”
“We’re fine, Helen.”
“Well, what’ll you have?”
One of the younger men looked like he was about to speak when Ned said, “Just give us the usual.”
“Okee-dokee.” She walked around behind the counter and yelled back to the kitchen as though she were calling hogs, “Three triple
cheeseburgers with onion rings, one vanilla shake and two chocolate shakes.”
“Got it,” shouted a male voice.
The bells on the door jingled as a middle-aged man in a black and gray beard entered the restaurant. His jeans had obviously never been near a washing machine. And his cowboy hat was so crumpled that Malcolm guessed the man slept in it every night. “What’d you do to your car, Ned?”
Ned grinned. “I finally did it, Jake. It’s my crowning achievement.”
The men discussed Ned’s car for a few more seconds. Then they talked about Jake’s chickens for a while.
“What can I get you today, Sir?”
Malcolm had not noticed Helen approaching his table. And he hadn’t even looked at the menu that was clearly printed right on the table.
“Uh…what do you recommend?”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“But you do look kinda familiar for some reason,” said Helen.
Malcolm tried not to smile. “You ever watch Channel 12 News?”
“Yes. Sometimes. It’s not my favorite, but…”
“I’m their senior reporter. Been there for over 25 years.”
“You’re the anchor?”
“No, I’m not an anchor. Should have been, but never quite made it.”
“Oh—are you the guy who reported the big high-rise fire last week?”
“No.” He sighed. “I was on a farm that day. The people said they had a high-jumping pig. They claimed it was destined to break the Guinness World Record of 27.5 inches. That stinky animal couldn’t even clear a cinder block.”
“I’ve never heard of a jumping pig.”
“I wish I never had. Just give me a hamburger, fries and a coke.”
“Coming right up.” Helen turned to walk away.
“Oh, one other thing, if you don’t mind,” said Malcolm.
Helen turned back around, smiling. “Onion rings?”
“Uh, no thanks. I just wanted to ask you about that man over there—Ned.”
“Yes? What about him?”
“I heard him telling that man with a beard that his car was sun-powered.”
“Yeah. Isn’t that something? He finally got it working.”
“He did it himself?”
“Yep. He loves to invent stuff.”
“Is that what he does for a living?”
“No. He’s a farmer. But he used to work for an aircraft company. Until they shut down. Then he took over his daddy’s farm.”
“Interesting. Thanks.”
Helen walked away.
Malcolm’s mouth began to water—but not for the burger and fries. What a story, he thought: Farmer outsmarts young high-tech whipper-snappers, building the first practical solar-powered automobile—in the form of a ’57 Chevy!
A young waitress delivered the food to Ned’s table, and the three men began to gobble it down. By the time Malcolm had reached them, they were half finished. “I apologize for interrupting your lunch, but I just had to ask about your car.”
Ned smiled as he continued to chew. “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
“Yes, very much so. And I overheard you say that the car is sun-powered.”
“That’s right,” said Ned.
The two young men both nodded in agreement as they stuffed their faces.
“So, does it use any batteries?”
“Sure—for nighttime driving.”
“Of course. Because there’s no sunlight.”
“Yeah. I can’t be driving around in the dark. Might hit a cow. Besides, it’s illegal.”
“You mean you only have batteries so you can run your headlights?”
“And taillights. One battery. That’s all.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Malcolm.
“Nope. Just the one six-volter.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.” Malcolm suddenly realized that he wasn’t writing anything down. But how could he possibly forget any of this? “Mind if I take a closer look?”
“No problem.” Ned sucked down the rest of his shake, took a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. “Come on.” He stood up and proudly led Malcolm out to his masterpiece.
“Check this out,” said Ned, popping the hood.
Malcolm could not keep his jaw from dropping. The engine had been removed. There was nothing under the hood except a small six-volt battery, strapped down with a bungee cord.
Ned closed the hood and walked around to the side of the car. “Back here is where the action is.” He opened the back seat door.
Malcolm was confused. “What is this?”
“This is where the power is applied.”
Malcolm took a closer look. The floor board where the passengers’ feet normally rest had been cut out to make room for
bicycle gears, chains and pedals. “I thought you said this car was completely solar powered?”
“Solar powered? Heck, no. I said it was son-powered. That’s what I call it—my son-powered car.”
The two young men walked out of Helen’s and took their places in the back seat, positioning their cowboy boots on the pedals.
“Well, then what’s this?” Malcolm pointed to the solar panel on top of the car.
“That’s a solar panel.”
“Then why don’t you use it?”
“I tried. But it only gives me enough power to run the headlights. And I don’t need the headlights in the daytime.” Ned got into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “Let’s go, boys.”
The two sons began to pedal as Ned steered the car onto the road.
“Nice talking with you,” said Ned as they drove away.
Malcolm stood there shaking his head. He should have known better than to think he would be so lucky. He went back into Helen’s and started eating his lukewarm hamburger and fries.
Then it hit him. Ned’s car was not the technical break-through story of a solution to skyrocketing oil prices. But it was a quirky, human interest story. And he was going to get it!
He threw some cash on the table, rushed out of the restaurant, jumped in his car, and sped off. Ned could not be more than a few blocks away.
It was not going to be a lousy day after all.
THE END
by
Robert Burton Robinson
It was just another lousy day in the life of a has-been TV news reporter.
Malcolm was past his prime. And at age 57, he’d long ago given up on his dream of sitting in the anchor chair. But the assignments he’d been getting recently were just downright degrading. It was a three-hour drive back to the city. He was starving. Weren’t there any McDonalds in this crummy little town? He decided to stop at the next restaurant he saw—no matter what it looked like.
Helen’s Hamburgers: the best burgers in town, the sign read. Malcolm suspected that Helen’s might be the only burger joint in town. The fact the there were no cars parked in front made him hesitate. He checked his watch. It was only 11:00 AM—too early for most lunchers. He parked his car and got out. Just as he was about to go inside, he heard something coming down the street. It was too noisy to be a bicycle, yet too quiet to be a car. He turned around.
The brakes squeaked on the 1957 Chevy Bel Air 4-door hardtop as it pulled in behind his car. It was in decent shape for a 50-year-old car. But an odd-looking luggage rack had been bolted to the top of the thing. Malcolm hated to see a great classic car defiled like that. But why was the engine so quiet? Then he realized that the flat thing on top of the car was not a luggage rack—it was a solar panel.
A man wearing overalls got out of the driver’s seat. Two husky twenty-something guys in jeans, T-shirts and boots got out of the back seat. Malcolm held the door for them. The older man thanked him. The three men took a seat at a round table near the front window. Malcolm picked a spot several tables away.
A woman in her mid-forties wearing a flowery 1950’s style day dress walked to the men’s table. “Howdy, Ned. How are you boys doing today?”
“We’re fine, Helen.”
“Well, what’ll you have?”
One of the younger men looked like he was about to speak when Ned said, “Just give us the usual.”
“Okee-dokee.” She walked around behind the counter and yelled back to the kitchen as though she were calling hogs, “Three triple
cheeseburgers with onion rings, one vanilla shake and two chocolate shakes.”
“Got it,” shouted a male voice.
The bells on the door jingled as a middle-aged man in a black and gray beard entered the restaurant. His jeans had obviously never been near a washing machine. And his cowboy hat was so crumpled that Malcolm guessed the man slept in it every night. “What’d you do to your car, Ned?”
Ned grinned. “I finally did it, Jake. It’s my crowning achievement.”
The men discussed Ned’s car for a few more seconds. Then they talked about Jake’s chickens for a while.
“What can I get you today, Sir?”
Malcolm had not noticed Helen approaching his table. And he hadn’t even looked at the menu that was clearly printed right on the table.
“Uh…what do you recommend?”
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“But you do look kinda familiar for some reason,” said Helen.
Malcolm tried not to smile. “You ever watch Channel 12 News?”
“Yes. Sometimes. It’s not my favorite, but…”
“I’m their senior reporter. Been there for over 25 years.”
“You’re the anchor?”
“No, I’m not an anchor. Should have been, but never quite made it.”
“Oh—are you the guy who reported the big high-rise fire last week?”
“No.” He sighed. “I was on a farm that day. The people said they had a high-jumping pig. They claimed it was destined to break the Guinness World Record of 27.5 inches. That stinky animal couldn’t even clear a cinder block.”
“I’ve never heard of a jumping pig.”
“I wish I never had. Just give me a hamburger, fries and a coke.”
“Coming right up.” Helen turned to walk away.
“Oh, one other thing, if you don’t mind,” said Malcolm.
Helen turned back around, smiling. “Onion rings?”
“Uh, no thanks. I just wanted to ask you about that man over there—Ned.”
“Yes? What about him?”
“I heard him telling that man with a beard that his car was sun-powered.”
“Yeah. Isn’t that something? He finally got it working.”
“He did it himself?”
“Yep. He loves to invent stuff.”
“Is that what he does for a living?”
“No. He’s a farmer. But he used to work for an aircraft company. Until they shut down. Then he took over his daddy’s farm.”
“Interesting. Thanks.”
Helen walked away.
Malcolm’s mouth began to water—but not for the burger and fries. What a story, he thought: Farmer outsmarts young high-tech whipper-snappers, building the first practical solar-powered automobile—in the form of a ’57 Chevy!
A young waitress delivered the food to Ned’s table, and the three men began to gobble it down. By the time Malcolm had reached them, they were half finished. “I apologize for interrupting your lunch, but I just had to ask about your car.”
Ned smiled as he continued to chew. “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
“Yes, very much so. And I overheard you say that the car is sun-powered.”
“That’s right,” said Ned.
The two young men both nodded in agreement as they stuffed their faces.
“So, does it use any batteries?”
“Sure—for nighttime driving.”
“Of course. Because there’s no sunlight.”
“Yeah. I can’t be driving around in the dark. Might hit a cow. Besides, it’s illegal.”
“You mean you only have batteries so you can run your headlights?”
“And taillights. One battery. That’s all.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Malcolm.
“Nope. Just the one six-volter.”
“Wow. That’s amazing.” Malcolm suddenly realized that he wasn’t writing anything down. But how could he possibly forget any of this? “Mind if I take a closer look?”
“No problem.” Ned sucked down the rest of his shake, took a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. “Come on.” He stood up and proudly led Malcolm out to his masterpiece.
“Check this out,” said Ned, popping the hood.
Malcolm could not keep his jaw from dropping. The engine had been removed. There was nothing under the hood except a small six-volt battery, strapped down with a bungee cord.
Ned closed the hood and walked around to the side of the car. “Back here is where the action is.” He opened the back seat door.
Malcolm was confused. “What is this?”
“This is where the power is applied.”
Malcolm took a closer look. The floor board where the passengers’ feet normally rest had been cut out to make room for
bicycle gears, chains and pedals. “I thought you said this car was completely solar powered?”
“Solar powered? Heck, no. I said it was son-powered. That’s what I call it—my son-powered car.”
The two young men walked out of Helen’s and took their places in the back seat, positioning their cowboy boots on the pedals.
“Well, then what’s this?” Malcolm pointed to the solar panel on top of the car.
“That’s a solar panel.”
“Then why don’t you use it?”
“I tried. But it only gives me enough power to run the headlights. And I don’t need the headlights in the daytime.” Ned got into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “Let’s go, boys.”
The two sons began to pedal as Ned steered the car onto the road.
“Nice talking with you,” said Ned as they drove away.
Malcolm stood there shaking his head. He should have known better than to think he would be so lucky. He went back into Helen’s and started eating his lukewarm hamburger and fries.
Then it hit him. Ned’s car was not the technical break-through story of a solution to skyrocketing oil prices. But it was a quirky, human interest story. And he was going to get it!
He threw some cash on the table, rushed out of the restaurant, jumped in his car, and sped off. Ned could not be more than a few blocks away.
It was not going to be a lousy day after all.
THE END
ماشين هوري
آن روز هم يكي از روزهاي گند زندگي خبرنگار سابق شبكه خبر بود.
دوران جواني مالكوم سپري شده بود.با 57 سال سن,او ديگر بايد روياي نشستن به روي صندلي اخبارگويي را از سرش بيرون مي كرد.اما كارهايي كه جديدا به او محول مي شد , تحقير محض بود. 3ساعت طول مي كشيد كه به شهر برگردد.مالكوم (1)خيلي گرسنه بود.
يعني تو اين شهر يه مك دونالد(2) وجود نداره؟تصميم گرفت با ديدن اولين رستوران ,توقف كند - شكل و شمايل رستوران هم اصلا مهم نبود.
روي تابلو نوشته شده بود ,همبرگرهاي هلن (3),بهترين همبرگرهاي شهر.
مالكوم مانده بود كه شايد غذاخوري هلن تنها غذاخوري شهر باشد.اما اين كه هيچ ماشيني جلوي آن پارك نشده بود ,وي را مردد مي ساخت.نگاهي به ساعتش انداخت.ساعت 11صبح را نشان مي داد و براي وقت نهار خيلي زود بود. ماشينش را پارك كرد و به طرف غذاخوري رفت.به هنگام وارد شدن ,صدايي از پايين خيابان به گوشش رسيد.اين صدا نه به آرامي يك دوچرخه بود و نه به پرسر و صدايي يك ماشين.مالكوم برگشت .
ترمزهاي يك شورلت چهار در چوي بل ساخت1957 كه سقفي فلزي(4) داشت , جيرجيري كرد و در پشت ماشين مالكوم متوقف شد.به عنوان ماشيني 50ساله ,خيلي تروتميز بود.اما باربندي عجيب غريب روي سقفش سوار شده بود.مالكوم از ديدن اين كه ماشيني كلاسيك وعالي را اين طور بد ريخت كرده اند ,متنفر بود.اما چرا موتورش آن قدر آرام و بي سر و صدا بود.سپس فهميد كه آن صفحه صاف كه بر روي سقف ماشين قرار گرفته است ,باربند نيست بلكه يك صفحه خورشيدي است.
مردي كه لباس كار پوشيده بود از سمت راننده پياده شد.دو جوان تقريبا 20ساله ,درشت هيكل و قوي كه شلوار جين پوشيده بودند و چكمه به پا داشتند ,نيز از سمت عقب راننده پياده شدند.مالكوم در غذاخوري را براي آنها باز نگه داشت.مرد مسن از او تشكر كرد.سپس آن 3مرد ,نزديك پنجره جلويي دور يك ميز نشستند.مالكوم چند ميز آن طرف تر را براي نشستن انتخاب كرد.
زني تقريبا 40ساله ,با لباسي گل گلي كه مد سال1950 بود ,به سمت ميز آنها رفت.
چطوري ند(5)؟ پسرا شما امروز چطورين؟
ما خوبيم هلن.
خب ,چي مي خورين؟
تا يكي از آن مردان جوان خواست چيزي بگويد ,ند گفت: مثل هميشه.
اي به چشم.هلن به پشت پيشخوان رفت و طوري در آشپزخانه فرياد زد كه گويي با مشتي خوك اخته طرف است , "سه تا چيزبرگر سوبله با پياز حلقه شده ,يك نوشيدني وانيلي و دو تا هم شكلاتي."
صدايي مردانه در جوابش گفت :" باشه".
با ورود مردي ميانسال كه ريش هاي جوگندمي داشت ,زنگ در رستوران به صدا درآمد.كاملا مشخص بود كه شلوار جين اين مرد تا بحال از نزديكي يك ماشين لباسشويي هم رد نشده است.كلاه گاوچرانيش هم آن قدر مچاله بود كه مالكوم حدس زد كه حتما اين مرد هر شب با آن مي خوابد.
از ماشينت چه خبر ند؟
ند پوزخندي زد." بالاخره تمومش كردم جيك ,اين ماشين كارهاي بزرگ منو كامل كرد".
مدتي درباره ماشين ند صحبت كردند.سپس براي لحظاتي هم درباره جوجه هاي جيك(6) حرف زدند.
امروز چي ميل داريد ,آقا؟
مالكوم متوجه نشده بود كه هلن نزديك ميزش شده است.نگاهي هم به صورت غذاها كه درست روي ميز چاپ شده بود ,نينداخته بود.
ا... شما چي پيشنهاد مي كنيد؟
شما اهل اينجاها نيسستيد ,درسته؟
نه ,خانم.
هلن در جوابش گفت :ولي يه جورايي آشنا به نظر مي رسيد.
مالكوم سعي كرد كه نخندد. تا حالا اخبار كانال12 را ديده ايد؟
بله ,گاهي وقت ها.اما زياد از اين كانال خوشم نمي آيد.
من خبرنگار ارشد آن ها هستم.25سال است كه آن جا مشغول هستم.
اخبارگو هستيد؟
نه , اخبارگو نيستم ,بايد مي شدم ولي هرگز موفق نشدم .
آهان... شما هموني نيستيد كه هفته پيش آن آتش سوزي عظيم را گزارش مي كرد؟
مالكوم آهي كشيد و گفت: نه. آن روز من در يك مزرعه بودم.مردم آن جا گفته بودند ,خوكي دارند كه مي تواند پرش زيادي بكند.آن ها ادعا مي كردند كه اين خوك مي تواند ركورد جهاني پرش كه در كتاب گينس 69/85 سانتي متر ثبت شده را بشكند.
آن حيوان بوگندو حتي نتوانست از روي يك بلوك سيماني بپرد.
تا حالا نشنيدم كه خوكي بتواند بپرد.
كاش من هم نشنيده بودم.يك همبرگر ,سيب زميني سرخ كرده و يك نوشابه به من بدهيد.
الساعه . هلن برگشت ...
مالكوم گفت: ا... يك چيز ديگر ,البته اگر زحمتي نباشد.
هلن برگشت و با لبخندي گفت: پياز حلقه شده؟
نه ...نه ... متشكرم.فقط مي خواستم درباره مردي كه آن جا نشسته است ,چيزي بپرسم.
درباره ند ,بفرماييد ,چي مثلا؟
شنيدم كه به آن مرد ريش جوگندمي مي گفت كه ماشينش هوري (7)است.
درسته ,مگه موردي پيش آمده؟ بالاخره ماشينش را به كار انداخت.
تنهايي؟
بعله . ند عاشقه اختراعه.
يعني از اين طريق زندگيش را مي گذراند؟
نه ,نه ,ند كشاورزه.قبلا براي يك شركت هواپيماسازي كار مي كرد.تا وقتي كه آن جا بسته شد.بعد از آن ,مزرعه باباشو اداره مي كنه.
جالبه ,متشكرم.
هلن به سمت آشپزخانه رفت.
دهن مالكوم آب افتاده بود - دليلش همبرگر و سيب زميني سرخ كرده نبود.با خود گفت ,عجب داستاني بشود: كشاورزي ,درتكنلوژي پيشرفته و نوپا و البته بي استفاده اي پيش دستي كرد و براي اولين بار اتومبيلي با شكل يك شورلت چوي مدل 1957 ساخت كه سوخت آن انرژي خورشيدي است.
پيشخدمت جوان سفارش ميز ند را آورد و هر سه آن ها شروع به بلعيدن غذاي خود كردند.زماني كه مالكوم نزديك آن ها شد ,تقريبا نصف غذاي خود را تمام كرده بودند.
مي بخشيد كه مزاحم ناهار خوردن شما مي شوم ,اما ناچارم درباره ماشينتون سوالاتي بپرسم.
ند همان طور كه غذايش را مي جويد ,خنديد و گفت: قشنگه ,نه؟
بله ,خيلي خيلي قشنگه.تصادفا شنيدم كه شما گفتيد ,ماشينتون هوريه؟
ند گفت: درسته.
آن مردان جوان هم ,همان طور كه مشغول چپاندن غذا در دهان خود بودند ,سرشان را به نشانه موافقت تكان دادند.
پس ,يعني هيچ باتري در كاري نيست؟
خاطر جمع باشيد - به جز براي رانندگي در شب.
البته ,شب كه نور خورشيد نيست.
آره ,من نمي توانستم در شب رانندگي كنم.شايد مي زدم به يك گاو.از آن گذشته ,اين كار غير قانونيه.
پس شما فقط از باتري ها جهت روشن كردن چراغ هاي جلوي ماشين استفاده مي كنيد.
و چراغ هاي عقب.آن هم فقط يك باتري.
مالكوم گفت: منو سر كار گذاشتيد.
نوچ ,ان هم فقط يك باتري 6ولتي.
واي ... شگفت آوره.ناگهان مالكوم دريافت كه تابحال چيزي را يادداشت نكرده است.اما چطور ممكن بود در اين ماجرا چيزي را از قلم بيندازد؟
مسئله اي نيست اگر نگاهي به ماشينتون بيندازم؟
اصلا.
ند بقيه نوشيدني خود را سر كشيد ,از كيف پولش تعدادي اسكناس درآورد و روي ميز انداخت.
بريم .سپس بلند شد و مغرورانه مالكوم را به سمت شاهكار خود هدايت كرد.
ند كاپوت ماشين را به سرعت بالا برد و گفت: اين جارو باش.
دهان مالكوم از فرط تعجب باز مانده بود. موتوري در كار نبود.فقط يك باتري كوچك 6ولتي كه با يك بند بانجي(8) بسته شده بود .
ند كاپوت را بست وبه سمت عقب ماشين رفت. اين عقب جايي است كه نيرو توليد مي شود. سپس در عقب را باز كرد.
مالكوم گيج شده بود. اين ديگر چيست؟
جايي كه نيرو اعمال ميشود.
مالكوم دقيق تر نگاه كرد.كف ماشين كه محل قرار گرفتن پاهاي مسافران است ,براي قرار دادن يك چرخ دنده دوچرخه ,زنجير و پدال هايش بريده شده بود.
من فكر كردم شما گفتي كه اين ماشين فقط با انرژي خورشيدي كار مي كند؟
انرژي خورشيدي؟ نه بابا. من گفتم اين يك ماشين پوري است و دليل نام آن هم همين است چون با نيروي انساني حركت مي كند.
آن دو مرد جوان نيز از مغازه هلن بيرون آمدند و سر جاي خود نشستند.سپس پوتين هاي گاوچراني خود را روي پدال ها گذاشتند و آماده حركت شدند.
مالكوم به آن صفحه خورشيدي روي سقف اشاره كرد و گفت: خب , پس اين چيست؟
يك صفحه خورشيدي.
پس چرا از آن استفاده نمي كني؟
مي خواستم استفاده كنم اما اين صفحه فقط مي تواند نيروي لازم براي روشن شدن چراغ هاي جلو را تامين كند.در حالي كه در طول روز من به اين چراغ ها نيازي ندارم.
ند سوار ماشين شد و در را بست. "پسرا , راه ميفتيم".
همان طور پسران شروع به پا زدن كردند ,ند هم ماشين را در جاده هدايت مي كرد.
ند در حالي كه دور مي شد ,گفت: از زيارتتون خوشحال شديم.
مالكوم هم سري تكان داد. از همه بهتر مي دانست كه خوش شانس نيست.به غذاخوري هلن برگشت شروع به خوردن همبرگر و سيب زميني سرخ كرده از دهن افتاده خود كرد.
ناگهان فكري به ذهنش خطور كرد.ماشين ند داستاني از پيشرفت چشمگير تكنولوژي در جهت افزايش سرسام آور قيمت نفت نبود, ولي داستاني خارق العاده و مطابق سليقه عام بود.
ند تصميم گرفت كه آن را بنويسد.
مقداري پول خرد روي ميز پرت كرد و با سرعت از رستوران خارج شد.به درون ماشينش جست و با سرعت تمام حركت كرد.ند نمي توانست زياد دور شده باشد.
گويي قرار بود آن روز, مثل روزهاي ديگر گند از آب درنيايد.
پايان
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پانويس ها:
1.Malcom
2.Mac Donald از رستوران هاي زنجيره اي بسيار مشهور در سراسر دنيا
3.Helen's Hamburgers
4.1957 Chevy Bell Air 4-doors hardtop
5.Ned
6.Jake
7.هدف از آوردن عبارات ماشين پوري و ماشين هوري حفظ جناس موجود بين دو عبارت Sun-powered car & Son-powered car است.وگرنه مي توان اين دو عبارت را به ترتيب به ماشين خورشيدي و ماشين انساني ترجمه كرد.
8.Bungee cord نوارهاي پلاستيكي بسيار محكم و انعطاف پذير كه در ورزش بانجي جامپينگ (Bungee-jumping) مورد استفاده قرار مي گيرد.
ترجمه
MEHRAN
منبع
motarjemonline.com
