双语读电影 《赛车总动员》第05章 :哇哦！瞌睡的时候绝对不能开车

Lightning kept Mack company for a short while, until he fell asleep. Mack traveled the endless miles alone. The lines dividing the lanes rolled like ribbons under his tires, and soon he felt his headlights drooping.

Mack was desperately trying to shake himself awake when a group of flashy hot rods rolled up beside him. Boost, the leader, noticed that Mack was falling asleep, and decided to have some fun. “We got ourselves a nodder,” he told the other cars.

DJ, a car with enormous speakers, put on some soothing music.

“Pretty music,” Mack said sleepily. He let out a huge yawn. In the next moment, he was snoring as he rolled forward.

“Yo, Wingo!” Boost called as he bumped Mack toward his friend. “Lane change, man!”

“Right back at ya!” Wingo said as he booted Mack back across the highway. But Boost swerved out of the way, allowing Mack to bump onto the shoulder of the road.

“Oops, I missed,” Boost said, and the hot rods cracked up.

Inside Lightning’s trailer, the jostling caused a trophy to slip off the shelf. It hit the lift control button, and the back door fell open. Lightning rolled to the lip of the ramp as Mack, still fast asleep and moving forward, veered back onto the highway.

Suddenly, Snot Rod felt a sneeze coming on. “Ahh … Ahh … Ahh … Ahh—”

“He’s gonna blow!” Wingo cried.

“Ah-chooo!” Snot Rod sneezed, sending a burst of flame from his tailpipe.

Mack swerved as he was startled awake. “Gesundheit!” he said automatically—then he realized where he was. “Whoa! One should never drive while drowsy.” He didn’t know that in the commotion Lightning had been shaken off the ramp! Mack kept driving into the night, leaving Lightning alone on the highway.

Honk!

“Get out of the way!” cried a car as he sped around the sleeping Lightning—who had just rolled into oncoming traffic. “You’re going the wrong way! Ahhhh!”

Cars honked and shouted as they veered to avoid Lightning.

“Mack!” Lightning hollered as he bolted awake, swerving just in time to avoid an oncoming truck. Turning sharply, Lightning dodged through the traffic after his trailer, who still hadn’t noticed that the race car was missing. But Lightning couldn’t see where he was going. Race cars drove only on tracks—and the tracks were always lit up—so Lightning didn’t have real headlights. “Mack!” he cried, momentarily losing sight of the truck. “Mack, wait for me!”

But Mack was too far ahead; he couldn’t hear Lightning.

Lightning was gaining ground. He followed the truck’s taillights as it headed to an off-ramp. Leaving the highway for a rural road, the trailer barreled over some train tracks. Lightning sped up—and jumped the crossing a millisecond before a train came through.

But when Lightning pulled up beside the truck, he made a horrible discovery. The trailer he’d been following wasn’t Mack at all.

“Turn on your lights, you moron,” the truck yelled at Lightning.

“Mack … ,” Lightning whispered to himself as the truck drove away. So … if that truck wasn’t Mack, where could Mack be? “The Interstate,” Lightning said. Turning, he spotted some lights. He tore toward them at top speed, not realizing that he was headed down winding old Highway 66, not the Interstate.

A siren blasted through the night air, and Lightning saw red and blue flashing lights. A police car! “Maybe he can help me,” Lightning said, slowing down.

But the police cruiser was old, and he hadn’t had to chase a sleek young race car in years. Ka-blam! He backfired.

“He’s shooting at me,” Lightning said, panicking and putting the pedal to the metal. “Why’s he shooting at me?”

Boom! Boom! Ka-blam! “I haven’t gone this fast in years,” the Sheriff said to himself as he sped after Lightning. “I’m gonna blow a gasket!”

Thinking he was being gunned down, Lightning swerved, snakelike, to avoid the blasts.

“What in the blue blazes?” cried the Sheriff. “Crazy hot-rodder.”

Lightning and the Sheriff barreled toward the sleepy little town of Radiator Springs. It was perfectly quiet there, and the locals were all gathered at Flo’s V8 Café, looking up at the town’s lone traffic light.

“I’m telling you, man,” said Fillmore, an aging bus. “Every third blink is slower.”

An old army jeep named Sarge gave Fillmore a dubious look. “The sixties weren’t good to you, were they?”

Blam! Blam! Ka-blam!

Tires squealed and the siren wailed as Lightning tore toward town with the Sheriff right on his bumper. As Lightning approached the traffic light, he got his first real look at Radiator Springs.

“What?” the race car cried. “That’s not the Interstate! Ow!” He slammed into a bunch of traffic cones. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Lightning swerved to avoid the cones and found himself headed straight for a barbed wire fence! “No-no-no-no-no!” He burst through the fence, and the wire wrapped around him. He dragged the fence forward as he plowed past the café.

“I’m not the only one seeing this, right?” Fillmore asked as he stared at the out-of-control race car in disbelief.

Lightning fishtailed, hitting a bunch of oilcans and a stack of tires. Then he ground the garden of Red, the fire truck, into the dirt. He swerved to avoid the statue of the town’s founder, Stanley, but the barbed wire caught it. For a moment, Lightning was pinned, spinning his wheels in place against the weight of the heavy statue, but then he gunned the engine. The statue tipped forward, landing in front of Lightning.

“Ahhh!” Lightning screamed, driving away, dragging Stanley and the barbed wire fence behind him and ripping up the road. Veering to the side, the statue launched off a flatbed trailer like a water-skier and landed in some telephone wires. Lightning tried to get free, but he was still tangled in the barbed wire with Stanley. Suddenly, Stanley flew backward, as if flung from a giant slingshot.

“Fly away, Stanley,” Fillmore called as the statue sailed overhead. “Be free.”

The statue landed back on its pedestal, and Lightning got tangled even more in a set of lowhanging telephone wires.

The winded sheriff drove up to Lightning, who was hanging upside down by the poles. “Boy,” the Sheriff said, catching his breath. “You’re in a heap of trouble.”

With a sigh, Lightning’s engine sputtered to a stop. He had passed out.