阅读理解 Last July, my 12-year-old car died on California's Santa Ana Freeway．It was an hour before sunset, and I was 25 miles from home．I couldn't reach anyone to pick me up, so I decided to take a bus．Not knowing the routes, I figured I'd just head east． A bus pulled up, and I asked the driver how far she was going．“Four more lights,” she said．There was another bus I could take from there．This clearly was going to be a long night． She dropped me off at the end of her route and told me which bus to look for．After waiting 30 minutes, I began to think about a very expensive taxi ride home．Then a bus pulled up．There was no lighted number above its windshield(挡风玻璃)．It was out of service．But the door opened, and I was surprised to find that it was the same driver． “I just can't leave you here,” she said．“This isn't the nicest place．I'll give you a ride home．” “You'll drive me home in the bus?” I asked, perplexed(困惑)． “No, I'll take you in my car,” she said． “It's a long way,” I protested． “Come on, ” she said．“I have nothing else to do．” As we drove from the station in her car, she began telling me a story．A few days earlier, her brother had run out of gas．A good Samaritan picked him up, took him to a service station and then back to his car．“I'm just passing the favor along, ” she said． When I offered her money as a thank-you, she wouldn't hear of it．“That wouldn't make it a favor, ”she said．“Just do something nice for somebody．Pass it along．” | 
