the kite runner-第54章

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SOMETIMES；　I　GOT　BEHIND　the　wheel　of　my　Ford；　rolled　down　the　windows；　and　drove　for　hours；　from　the　East　Bay　to　the　South　Bay；　up　the　Peninsula　and　back。　I　drove　through　the　grids　of　cottonwood…lined　streets　in　our　Fremont　neighborhood；　where　people　who　d　never　shaken　hands　with　kings　lived　in　shabby；　flat　one…story　houses　with　barred　windows；　where　old　cars　like　mine　dripped　oil　on　blacktop　driveways。　Pencil　gray　chain…link　fences　closed　off　the　backyards　in　our　neighborhood。　Toys；　bald　tires；　and　beer　bottles　with　peeling　labels　littered　unkempt　front　lawns。　I　drove　past　tree…shaded　parks　that　smelled　like　bark；　past　strip　malls　big　enough　to　hold　five　simultaneous　Buzkashi　tournaments。　I　drove　the　Torino　up　the　hills　of　Los　Altos；　idling　past　estates　with　picture　windows　and　silver　lions　guarding　the　wrought…iron　gates；　homes　with　cherub　fountains　lining　the　manicured　walkways　and　no　Ford　Torinos　in　the　drive　ways。　Homes　that　made　Baba　s　house　in　Wazir　Akbar　Khan　look　like　a　servant　s　hut。
I　d　get　up　early　some　Saturday　mornings　and　drive　south　on　Highway　17；　push　the　Ford　up　the　winding　road　through　the　mountains　to　Santa　Cruz。　I　would　park　by　the　old　lighthouse　and　wait　for　sunrise；　sit　in　my　car　and　watch　the　fog　rolling　in　from　the　sea。　In　Afghanistan；　I　had　only　seen　the　ocean　at　the　cinema。　Sitting　in　the　dark　next　to　Hassan；　I　had　always　wondered　if　it　was　true　what　I　d　read；　that　sea　air　smelled　like　salt。　I　used　to　tell　Hassan　that　someday　we　d　walk　on　a　strip　of　seaweed…strewn　beach；　sink　our　feet　in　the　sand；　and　watch　the　water　recede　from　our　toes。　The　first　time　I　saw　the　Pacific；　I　almost　cried。　It　was　as　vast　and　blue　as　the　oceans　on　the　movie　screens　of　my　childhood。
Sometimes　in　the　early　evening；　I　parked　the　car　and　walked　up　a　freeway　overpass。　My　face　pressed　against　the　fence；　I　d　try　to　count　the　blinking　red　taillights　inching　along；　stretching　as　far　as　my　eyestould　see。　BMWs。　Saabs。
Porsches。　Cars　I　d　never　seen　in　Kabul；　where　most　people　drove　Russian　Volgas；　old　Opels；　or　Iranian　Paikans。
Almost　two　years　had　passed　since　we　had　arrived　in　the　U。S。；　and　I　was　still　marveling　at　the　size　of　this　country；　its　vastness。　Beyond　every　freeway　lay　another　freeway；　beyond　every　city　another　city　hills　beyond　mountains　and　mountains　beyond　hills；　and；　beyond　those；　more　cities　and　more　people。
Long　before　the　Roussi　army　marched　into　Afghanistan；　long　before　villages　were　burned　and　schools　destroyed；　long　before　mines　were　planted　like　seeds　of　death　and　children　buried　in　rock…piled　graves；　Kabul　had　bee　a　city　of　ghosts　for　me。　A　city　of　harelipped　ghosts。
America　was　different。　America　was　a　river；　roaring　along；　unmindful　of　the　past。　I　could　wade　into　this　river；　let　my　sins　drown　to　the　bottom；　let　the　waters　carry　me　someplace　far。　Someplace　with　no　ghosts；　no　memories；　and　no　sins。
If　for　nothing　else；　for　that；　I　embraced　America。
THE　FOLLOWING　SUMMER；　the　summer　of　1984……the　summer　I　turned　twenty…one……Baba　sold　his　Buick　and　bought　a　dilapidated　　71　Volkswagen　bus　for　550　from　an　old　Afghan　acquaintance　who　d　been　a　high…school　science　teacher　in　Kabul。　The　neighbors　　heads　turned　the　afternoon　the　bus　sputtered　up　the　street　and　farted　its　way　across　our　lot。　Baba　killed　the　engine　and　let　the　bus　roll　silently　into　our　designated　spot。　We　sank　in　our　seats；　laughed　until　tears　rolled　down　our　cheeks；　and；　more　important；　until　we　were　sure　the　neighbors　weren　t　watching　anymore。　The　bus　was　a　sad　carcass　of　rusted　metal；　shattered　windows　replaced　with　black　garbage　bags；　balding　tires；　and　upholstery　shredded　down　to　the　springs。　But　the　old　teacher　had　reassured　Baba　that　the　engine　and　transmission　were　sound　and；　on　that　account；　the　man　hadn　t　lied。
On　Saturdays；　Baba　woke　me　up　at　dawn。　As　he　dressed；　I　scanned　the　classifieds　in　the　local　papers　and　circled　the　garage　sale　ads。　We　mapped　our　route……Fremont；　Union　City；　Newark；　and　Hayward　first；　then　San　Jose；　Milpitas；　Sunnyvale；　and　Campbell　if　time　permitted。　Baba　drove　the　bus；　sipping　hot　tea　from　the　thermos；　and　I　navigated。　We　stopped　at　garage　sales　and