My mother and I were heading north out of Marathon1， Florida， in the middle of the night， everything we owned in the back of the car. I was thirteen， and she was driving. We were coming off an overseas bridge when someone screamed from the opposite side of the street. I glanced left for a second—a woman， long black hair， white tank top， she might have had her hands to her mouth， or I might have made that up afterward—before looking back at the road， just in time to see whatever it was we were about to run over. A crumple of fabric， the size of a throw pillow2， glowing white in the headlights. We hit the thing fast， sailed over it clear， the wheels bouncing twice and continuing on. By the time my mother could slow down and pull over， we were fifty yards3 up the road.

深夜，我和母亲北上，离开佛罗里达州的马拉松市，车后面是我们全部的家当。我那年十三岁，是母亲在开车。我们才从跨海大桥上下来，就听到街对面传来的尖叫声。我向左瞥了一眼：是一个女人，黑长发，白背心，似乎用手捂住了嘴，这也有可能是我后来瞎掰的——当我再次看向路面，却发现我们眼看着就要轧过什么东西。那是一团皱巴巴的布料，大小和抱枕差不多，在车前灯下泛着白光。我们迅速撞上了那东西，从上面飞驰而过，车轮颠簸了两下，又继续往前。等母亲终于减速把车停在路边时，我们已经向前开了五十码。

My mother could find a million reasons to leave a place. She’d been fired from her job in Jackson4 after thirteen months， fought with our landlord in Mobile5 after six， and been dumped by her live-in boyfriend in Jacksonville6 after just two. Two hours before the hit， she’d opened the door of the doublewide7 that had been our month-long home， sighed， and announced that hurricane season8 started the next day， and she didn’t want to be around to see it.

我母亲要离开某个地方，总能找到无数理由。她在杰克逊市待了十三个月后，被炒了鱿鱼；在莫比尔市待了六个月后，和房东大吵一架；在杰克逊维尔市只待了两个月，让同居男友甩了。而这次撞到东西的两小时前，她打开我们住了一个月的双单元房车的门，叹了口气，然后宣布飓风季明天开始，她可不想留在这里亲眼见证。

Soon we were eating dinner off paper plates on the rug in front of the TV and flipping through tour books from AAA9 to decide where we’d go next. I wanted to go north， to New York or Boston， where we’d see snow if we waited long enough， even though I knew we never would. My mother wanted to stay in the South， where she could have a year-round tan. We only paused our back-and-forth when the news ran an update on a story we’d been following， the one about a teenaged runaway who’d fled from a pious， oppressive home months before. My mother and I had been cheering on the girl’s escape for weeks. The update said that they had no update， that there was still no sign of the girl. We turned back to the guidebook. “Macon10，” my mother said， and that was it.

没过多久，我们就坐在电视机前的小地毯上，一边用纸盘子吃晚饭，一边翻看美国汽车协会的旅行指南，决定接下来要去哪里。我想去北方，去纽约或波士顿，如果我们在那边待得够久，就能看到雪，尽管我很清楚我们根本等不到。母亲想留在南方，在这里，她一年四季都能晒出小麦色的肌肤。我们有来有往地讨论着，直到新闻播放一则近期关注报道的最新进展时才停下。那则报道是关于一名离家出走的青少年的，几个月前，她从虔信宗教、氛围压抑的家中逃了出来。几周以来，我和母亲都在为这个女孩的出逃欢欣鼓舞。最新进展是尚无进展，女孩仍然不见踪影。我们又翻起了旅行指南。“梅肯市。”母亲说道。事情就这么定了下来。

I didn’t expect to be in Macon more than a week and a half， but that was fine by me. Every time my mother told me to get in the car， I was always ready to go.

我并不指望在梅肯市待的时间能超过一周半，不过那对我也无所谓。