Читать «Английский язык с С. Кингом "Верхом на пуле"» онлайн - страница 20
Stephen King
urge [WG], tighten ['taItn], entirely [In'taIqlI]
“It's okay,” I repeated, and all at once I was fighting an urge to bolt out of the car, leaving my shirt behind in his grip if that was what it took to get free. It was as if he were drowning. I thought that when I moved, his grip would tighten, that he might even go for the nape of my neck, but he didn't. His fingers loosened, then slipped away entirely as I put my leg out. And I wondered, as we always do when an irrational moment of panic passes, what I had been so afraid of in the first place. He was just an elderly carbon-based life-form in an elderly Dodge's pee-smelling ecosystem, looking disappointed that his offer had been refused. Just an old man who couldn't get comfortable in his truss. What in God's name had I been afraid of?
“I thank you for the ride and even more for the offer (благодарю вас за поездку и еще больше за предложение),” I said. “But I can go out that way (но я могу пойти вон туда: «тем путем/в том направлении»)” — I pointed at Pleasant Street (я указал на Плезант-стрит) — and I'll have a ride in no time (и я сразу же поеду = найду попутку;
He was quiet for a moment (он молчал: «был тих» некоторое время), then sighed and nodded (потом вздохнул и кивнул). “Ayuh, that's the best way to go (да, лучше всего идти туда), he said. Stay right out of town (держись подальше от: «оставайся хорошенько за пределами» города), nobody wants to give a fella ride in town (никто не хочет подвозить парня =
He was right about that (он был прав насчет этого); hitchhiking in town, even a small one like Gates Falls, was futile (/пытаться/ путешествовать автостопом в городе, даже таком маленьком, как Гейтс-Фоллс, было бесполезно). I guess he had spent some time riding his thumb (я думаю, он провел немало времени: «некоторое время», голосуя на дороге;
quiet ['kwaIqt], sigh [saI], futile ['fjHtaIl]
“I thank you for the ride and even more for the offer,” I said. “But I can go out that way” — I pointed at Pleasant Street — “and I'll have a ride in no time.”
He was quiet for a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Ayuh, that's the best way to go,” he said. “Stay right out of town, nobody wants to give a fella ride in town, no one wants to slow down and get honked at.”
He was right about that; hitchhiking in town, even a small one like Gates Falls, was futile. I guess he had spent some time riding his thumb. “But, son, are you sure? You know what they say about a bird in the hand.”
I hesitated again (я снова заколебался/засомневался). He was right about a bird in the hand, too (по поводу синицы в руке он тоже был прав). Pleasant Street became Ridge Road a mile or so west of the blinker (через милю или около того к западу от мигающего указателя Плезант-стрит становилась Ридж-роуд), and Ridge Road ran through fifteen miles of woods before arriving at Route 196 on the outskirts of Lewiston (а Ридж-роуд проходила: «бежала» пятнадцать миль по лесам: «через пятнадцать миль лесов», прежде чем достигала шоссе 196 на окраине Льюистона). It was almost dark (было почти темно), and it's always harder to get a ride at night (и всегда труднее найти попутку ночью) — when headlights pick you out on a country road (когда передние фары освещают: «выхватывают» тебя на проселочной дороге), you look like an escapee from Wyndham Boys' Correctional (ты выглядишь как беглец из Уиндхэмовского исправительного учреждения для мальчиков;
