"Richard Wilson - Mother to the World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilson Richard)

There were a number of laughs to be had from cars in
comical positions, if anybody was in a laughing mood. Some
were standing obediently behind white lines at intersections,
and obviously their drivers had been overtaken during a red
light. With its driver gone, each such car had simply stood
there, its engine dutifully using up all the gas in its tank and
then coughing to a stop. Others had nosed gently into shop
windows, or less gently into other cars or trucks. One truck,
loaded with New Jersey eggs, had overturned and its cargo
was dripping in a yellowy-white puddle. Rolfe, his nose
twitching as if in anticipation of a warm day next week, made
a mental note never to return to that particular spot.
Several times he found a car which had been run up upon
from behind by another. It was as if, knowing they would
never again be manufactured, they were trying copulation.
While Siss was in church Rolfe found a car that had not
idled away all its gas and he made a dry run through the
streets. He discovered that he could navigate pretty well
around the stalled or wrecked cars, though occasionally he
had to drive up on the sidewalk or make a three-block detour
to get back to Broadway.
Then he and Siss, subdued after church, went downtown.
"Whose car is this, Mr. Ralph?" she asked him.
"My car, Siss. Would you like one, too?"
"I can't drive."
"I'll teach you. It may come in handy."
"I was the only one in church," she said. It hadn't got
through to her yet, he thought; not completely.
"Who were you expecting?" he asked kindly.
"God, maybe."
She was gazing straight ahead, clutching her purse in her
lap. She had the expression of a person who had been let
down.
At 72nd Street a beer truck had demolished the box office
of the Trans-Lux movie house and foamy liquid was still
trickling out of it, across the sidewalk and along the gutter
and into a sewer. Rolfe stopped the car and got out. An
aluminum barrel had been punctured. The beer leaking from
it was cool. He leaned over and let it run into his mouth for
a while.
The Trans-Lux had been having a Fellini festival; the pic-
ture was 8V2. On impulse he went inside and came back to
the car with the reels of film in a black tin box. He remem-
bered the way the movie had opened, with all the cars stalled
in traffic. Like Broadway, except that the Italian cars had
people in them. He put the box in the rear of the car and
said: "We'll go to the movies sometime." Siss looked at him
blankly.
At Columbus Circle a Broadway bus had locked horns with
a big van carrying furniture from North Carolina. At 50th