[13] But nothing could dispel the sense of helplessness that overwhelmed me whenever I contemplated the frowning mountains that lay ahead. The next morning I had to force myself to slide behind the wheel. Just one more day, I kept telling myself. Surely I can find the courage to make it through one day. If I just kept my eyes locked on the back of my brother's truck, if I just made my wheels follow his wheels, I'd be all right. If I would just take slow, deep breaths instead of shallow, terrified gasps, I would be all right.
[14] If I could just visualize my heart as a place where courage dwelt, instead of panic, I would be all right. I kept telling myself that the fear of crashing through the guardrail and plunging over the edge existed only in my imagination, pot in fact. Control, that was the key. I would cling with all my might to control. I would clutch it tight and take charge .
[15] But as the day wore on and the road mounted higher, that little core of self-control grew smaller and smaller, and finally, on a heart-stop-ping grade southwest of Barstow, California, it vanished altogether.
[11]怎么也唾不着。我两眼瞅着一片黑暗,耳听附近州际公路上过往的卡车和轿车呼啸不停。我迫使自己向数百英里之外家中那些温馨的形象寻求慰藉。我想到了贝特西和塔比莎,那是我和丈夫养的两只可爱的小猫;还有贝思,那只喜欢逮飞碟的顽皮小狗。我想到了朋友们和邻居们。丈夫和孩子们的面容浮现在我眼前。
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