A No. 102 trolleybus, with a beige upper part and sky blue lower part, and a "big braid" slowly drove into the station. As soon as the car entered the station, the dust kicked up by the wheels and the strong smell of gasoline hit the face.
Before the dust had settled, thirty or forty passengers swarmed to the door of the train, but Hong Yanwu, who was in front, was squeezed out of the crowd.
Hong Yanwu was really startled, his heart trembled, and he subconsciously closed his pockets. Nothing else, he was worried about meeting a thief who "robbed the door". If it was stolen again, he would have to kill himself.
These days, there are no traffic wardens waving flags to maintain order, so chaos is inevitable. Those people squeezing the car used all their strength, grabbing and pulling at all costs, and there seemed to be so many people rushing up.
It seems like they will lose their lives if they wait for a minute, which makes many people who can't stand the crowds miserable.
A person carrying a luggage roll couldn't get up because of the crowd. He complained in a hurry, "Oh, it's so crowded. How can I get up if I don't get up first?"
Another woman who had just squeezed into the car was also shouting, "Oh my God, what are you doing? My shoes are all falling apart."
Seeing this, the conductor quickly looked out the window and banged the ticket holder loudly. But no matter how she shouted, people still went their own way and continued to squeeze in. In fact, it was not so much that the conductor was maintaining order.
She is proving her existence.
Among all the people who got on the bus, only Hong Yanwu showed high quality. He did not fight or grab, and he also took the initiative to yield to the people behind him and got on the bus until he was the last one. Unfortunately, his behavior was incompatible with this era. Even the conductor
Looking at him, he looked like he was looking at a fool.
The bus finally started moving, and the conductor opened the ticket folder and greeted him. "Comrades who don't have tickets, please buy a ticket. Comrades who just got on the bus bought a ticket..."
In this era, the fare set by the bus company was five cents for six stops. Hong Yanwu had to go to Taoranting Swimming Pool to transfer to Route 40, so when he bought the ticket, he said he would only take one stop. Unexpectedly, he asked the conductor again
I saw a strange look in the eyes of other passengers. For this reason, I thought about it for a long time before I figured out that in this era, in order to save money, most people would choose "Road 11" to walk on short distances. He neither
The luggage is not from outside the city, and he takes a bus so close. In the eyes of others, he is undoubtedly a spendthrift.
Because he was very eager to see the street outside, Hong Yanwu bought a ticket, stood on the steps at the door of the train and turned around.
The scenery he saw through the unclean car door glass was a large area of gray bungalows, with narrow alleys and alleys interspersed among them. White gray walls, wooden doors and windows were all covered with fine loess dust. The streets were narrow,
There are very few car lanes, and most of the streets are occupied by cyclists and pedestrians. In short, the capital more than thirty years ago was not the modern city made of cement and steel bars in the future. There were no overpasses, no high-rise buildings, and no feasting and entertainment.
, there is no karaoke bar, only the spring wind and sand, the blue sky, and the undercurrent of desire to return home in his heart.
Soon, the trolley bus drove onto the cement bridge leading to Taiping Street. This was of great significance, because it meant that Hong Yanwu was crossing the moat, crossing the suburban dividing line, and was about to truly enter the city.
No traffic jams, no red lights, smooth flow all the way.
The moment he entered the territory of the capital, Hong Yanwu felt a deep sense of joy in his heart. It was not until now that he truly entered the capital.
Human feelings are nostalgic, and birds miss their hometown. After decades of expectations and decades of crazy dreams, he never thought that he would be able to set foot on the road home again. This is not a slanderous comment, he really
It feels like poetry. I’m home, finally.
When "102" drove over the cement bridge, the swimming pool station was quickly reached. The place where Hong Yanwu got off was right at the gate of Taoranting Swimming Pool, opposite the east gate of Taoranting Park.
In the early spring of 1977, the entrance fee to Taoranting Park was still three cents. But the entrance was not lively at all. There were only twos and threes of tourists, and it was very deserted. Standing at the station and looking into the park gate facing the street, I first felt like
A desolate and dilapidated scene with declining popularity.
Hong Yanwu has been to this park countless times, but he has never spent the "wasted money" on buying tickets. This is all because he has known a secret since he was a child - there is a leather covered area in the north of the park near the leather factory.
The factory worker made the twisted iron fence. According to the principle that if his head can get in, his body can get in, he always regarded it as the only entrance.
In fact, Fululi is not far from here. Hong Yanwu can completely walk home. As long as he enters from the east gate of Taoranting Park, he can reach the north gate of the park in less than 20 minutes. After exiting the north gate, it only takes
One stop further to the west and he would be home.
However, because going home today has special meaning, he decided to take bus 40, walk along Taiping Street, turn to Taoranting Road, and then to Baizhifang East Street. Along the way were places he was familiar with when he was a child, and they also recorded his
He wanted to take a good look at the street scenes along the way where his life had been for the first twenty years of his life, and tell them that he, Hong Yanwu, was back.
The replacement car was right there, and the car came within a few minutes.
What Hong Yanwu boarded this time was a "Skoda" with a white top and a red bottom shaped like a loaf of bread. A Soviet-style loaf of bread like this was the No. 40 bus of this era, and it was also the most common dilapidated bus on the streets of Beijing in this era.
.
It's not yet time to get off work, and there is no one in the car. You can see that there are waste tickets and scraps of paper everywhere in the car. The seats and handles of the car have been worn away and have no luster. The brown artificial leather seat cover has long been cracked, and the black sponge
The head was exposed outside and was very dirty and rotten. Fortunately, it was early spring and the weather was cold, so the smell in the car was bearable.
But this car is definitely on the verge of being scrapped. The roaring sound of the motor is annoying, and every part is making a squeaking noise. When driving on the road, it looks like a guy with a bad stomach, constantly jumping and smoking.
The passengers were like theatergoers, shaking their heads in unison with the bumping gongs and drums. With every bump, not only the armrest rings would sway in the air, but even the wooden floor of the car would raise a cloud of dust, which was reflected in the sunlight.
It was like a layer of mist under the light.
Hong Yanwu took a seat by the window. Everything he saw now was fresh and familiar. In his eyes, this seemed to be a time bus leading to the past.
The common people's cards have turned into ticket holders and pencil stubs in the hands of conductors, and the laptops and plastic bags in the hands of passengers have turned into aluminum lunch boxes and glass mesh bags. There are no longer dedicated bus lanes on the road, and the torrent of cars flows from
It disappeared from the field of vision, and even the bus itself changed from an air-conditioned vehicle back to a trailer carriage. The most amazing thing was that a carriage appeared directly in front of it, blocking the way of the bus.
As the car horn sounded, loud shouts from the handlebars could be heard. Then a whip cracked the air, and the carriage was forced to the side of the road. When the No. 40 car roared with its motor and puffed out exhaust gas as it passed by the carriage,
Through the car window, Hong Yanwu saw a big brown-red horse pulling a flatbed cart. He saw it snoring, breathing white air, and running on the asphalt road with its iron hoofs clattering. The handlebars looked very
Calmly, sitting on a creaking cart, holding a long whip tip in one hand and pulling the reins with the other hand. Such a special scene of the times will not be seen in the future, even in movies.
For a moment, Hong Yanwu seemed to have a dream of changing time and space. He couldn't help but imagine what kind of shock would happen if the Soviet-style bread he was in was moved to the Third Ring Road in 2012. Then he went on
Imagine what the effect would be like if he drove a Bentley on the street in front of him.
Route "40" goes all the way north and heads west from the T-junction of Taiping Street.
Ahead is the north gate of Taoranting Park, and then you'll find Baizhifang East Street. You're almost there.
Hong Yanwu's eyes were fixed on the window, unwilling to move his head away at all. He pressed his body close to the car window and pulled the glass back with his fingers to see more clearly. Little by little, he recognized the familiar places. Here is
Heiyaochang, this is Sipingyuan Hutong, this is Longquan Hutong, and that in front is Longzhahuai Hutong...
Slowly, the scaly claws passing through his mind dispelled the strangeness of time and awakened more memories. He had an impression of the painted cast iron fence in the park, and the rows of cloud-blocking trees on both sides of the road.
He has an impression of the old locust trees, the neatly painted wooden telephone poles, the gray-walled and blue-tiled private houses, and he feels extremely close to the dormitory building of the Northern Kunqu Opera Troupe. Those old buildings have been destroyed
The covered courtyards and alleys, the battlefields where bricks were flying that made him famous, were all resurrected before his eyes.
The car stopped, and the door brake sighed. The conductor's loud voice announced the stop in a long tone lazily: "Zixin Road has arrived."
Hong Yanwu jumped out of the car. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he walked west along the north side of the road and went straight to the alley entrance of Furuli without thinking.
go home!
At this time, he felt like returning home and couldn't wait any longer!
In front of the bathhouse on the north side of the road, the dark green old mailbox is still poking there silently. Next to the mailbox is still the car storage area surrounded by a circle of black cast iron shelves. The car storage area is still the same bald old man holding an enamel tea jar.
Watch the cars there. Even the bathhouse is still so lively, and you can hear the bustle of people coming from outside.
Hong Yanwu walked through quickly with hurried steps.
Looking further ahead, opposite the entrance of the alley, the grocery store is still in the same place. The person sleeping on a cardboard box at the door is a big tabby cat raised by a nearby resident. He is sleeping happily without paying any attention to himself.
The old lady was kidnapping him. Don't think it's so lazy, but you can't imagine how fast it is when it comes to catching mice.
After walking a few more steps, they arrived at the entrance of the alley. Hong Yanwu turned right and plunged in. The hustle and bustle of the road was instantly left behind.
As the alley narrows, the sky also shrinks in size. The sunlight casts the shadows of the houses clearly on the walls and the ground, making the road home look clean and bright. Everything in sight is almost uniformly gray, very gray like the capital city.
A familiar smell and temperature were spreading rapidly. Hong Yanwu thought of the pigeon whistle that resounded in the sky, the clear calls of the indigo chins or orioles, the cheers of the children competing to fly kites, and the bicycles.
The ringing of the bell broke the tranquility of the alley, and he also recalled the bowing greetings from the neighbors, the benevolence and generosity of the sixth uncle and the fifth uncle, the babbling and singing of Jinghu, and the humorous laughter of cross talk and singing. All these made him
I deeply feel that life in the old days was so peaceful, comfortable and easy-going.