2005年NPR美国国家公共电台三月-A Youthful Traveling Companion

（单词翻译）

Not all musicians hit bottom, of course, but they do have to drive and drive and drive to get where they are going. Commentator¹ Christian² Bauman remembers a poignant³ journey of a few years back.

I came home from the army to a bachelor apartment in eastern Pennsylvania and a bad job as an office clerk. I was 25 years old. My daughter Christina was 7. We had every other weekend together in 2 tiny rooms on the second floor. The rest of the time went to my guitar and my song writing. And at first, I tried hard to keep all this world separate.
One Friday morning, the phone rang at my desk. It was the booking manager of the iron horse, the famous music club in north Hampton Massachusetts, 3 states and 4 hours away.
"What are you doing later," he asked.
"It was my weekend to have my daughter", and I told him so.
"Never mind that," he said, "I've got a country princess from Nashville appear tonight, I don't think she's got 45 minutes worth/ material."
He wanna open the show and when I say open, I mean play for an hour. I told him I was unsure about opening for a country singer. He coughed politely.
"Pardon me," he said, "the correct response is I'll see you tonight."
I thought for one moment then said, "I'll see you tonight."

I told my boss I had a death in the family which is why you should never hire musicians to work at a desk. By noon, I was at Christina's school, waiting through a sea of diligent⁴ fourth-graders. It was Friday afternoon, a gorgeous⁵ October Indian summer, 70 degrees. There were better classrooms than the one she was in. "I'm busting⁶ ya out of here." I said. Our 4-hour drive became 6 as we had traffic. The leaves in Connecticut and Massachusetts were red and gold and our windows were open. Sometimes half an hour went by without a word being said. I asked Christina about school, and she answered but she wasn't much interested in that.She told me instead about the Daniel Pink Word, a book she was reading. She talked 15 minutes about it. Her skin was freckled⁷ from the summer, her fingers playing dancing games at the open window of the car. We made the gig with minutes to spare. The Nashville princess entertained Christina with knock-knock jokes while I tuned⁸ up and the bartender fetter⁹ while I played my set. There was almost no audience and a 4-hour drive home lay ahead. Back in the car nearing midnight, Christina said, in her matter of fact Christina way, "Not a lot of people there tonight." I grimaced¹⁰ and fought the urge for a cigarette. "Still" she said, "the waitresses all liked you and I saw the songman by a CD." We ate drive-through French fries and listened to "Avid¹¹ Road" on the tape player. "Thanks for coming with me," I said later, the first of many times I would tell her this over the next few years. But curled¹² up with her own long hair as a pillow, she was already asleep. I rolled down the window, allowed myself the cigarette and thought about my smart little girl and how rare it is to find a good travelling companion.

Former soldier and folk singer Christian Bauman is author of the novel, "The Ice Beneath You". His daughter Christina is now a junior in high school.