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我在紐約市做出租車(chē)司機(jī)已經(jīng)有28年零3個(gè)月12天的時(shí)間了�，F(xiàn)在，如果你問(wèn)我昨天早餐吃了些什么，我可能都回答不上來(lái)。但是有一個(gè)乘客給我留下了頗為深刻的印象，在我的有生之年，我永遠(yuǎn)都不會(huì)將其忘記。

那個(gè)故事發(fā)生在1966年的春天。那是一個(gè)陽(yáng)光燦爛的周一上午，我沿著紐約大街緩慢行駛以兜攬顧客。在這一個(gè)明媚的天氣里，不適合開(kāi)得太快。當(dāng)我發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)衣著體面的男人急匆匆走下紐約醫(yī)院門(mén)前臺(tái)階時(shí)，我把車(chē)停在了醫(yī)院對(duì)面的紅綠燈前。他向我招了招手。

就在那個(gè)時(shí)候，綠燈亮了，我后面的司機(jī)開(kāi)始不耐煩地按起喇叭；我還聽(tīng)到了警察的口哨聲。但是我不想丟掉這份生意。最終那個(gè)男人來(lái)到了我的車(chē)邊，迅速坐了進(jìn)來(lái)�！罢�(qǐng)帶我去拉瓜迪亞機(jī)場(chǎng)，”他說(shuō)，“謝謝你等我。”

真是個(gè)好消息，我心里暗想。周一上午，拉瓜迪亞機(jī)場(chǎng)一般客流量挺大，如果幸運(yùn)的話，我或許在返程的時(shí)候也能拉到客人，這樣一來(lái)，我一天的任務(wù)就完成了。

和往常一樣，我對(duì)我的乘客充滿好奇。這個(gè)男人是健談，是悶聲不響，抑或熱衷讀報(bào)？過(guò)了一會(huì)兒，他開(kāi)始和我攀談起來(lái)，話題再普通不過(guò)：“你喜歡開(kāi)出租車(chē)嗎？”

這真是個(gè)老掉牙的問(wèn)題，我也給了他一個(gè)老掉牙的回答�！斑�行吧，”我說(shuō)，“我以此為生，偶爾也會(huì)遇到一些很有趣的人。但是如果我能找到一個(gè)周薪比現(xiàn)在多100美元的工作，我當(dāng)然愿意，換你也會(huì)這么做的�！彼�的回答激起了我的好奇心�！拔铱刹粫�(huì)因?yàn)槊恐苌倌?00美元而換工作。”

我從來(lái)沒(méi)有聽(tīng)到有人這么說(shuō)過(guò)�！澳闶亲鍪裁吹�？”“我在紐約醫(yī)院神經(jīng)科工作�！蔽乙恢笔莻�(gè)好奇的人，總想從別人身上學(xué)點(diǎn)兒什么。車(chē)程較長(zhǎng)的時(shí)候，我會(huì)和我的乘客建立良好的關(guān)系——事實(shí)上，我那些做會(huì)計(jì)，律師和水管工的乘客給過(guò)我不少好的建議�？赡苁且�?yàn)檫@個(gè)男人表現(xiàn)出來(lái)的對(duì)自己工作的喜愛(ài)，也可能是那個(gè)明媚的春天的早晨給我?guī)��?lái)了好心情，我決定向他求助。我們離機(jī)場(chǎng)已經(jīng)不遠(yuǎn)了，所以我單刀直入地進(jìn)入話題。

“我能請(qǐng)你幫我一個(gè)大忙嗎？”他沒(méi)有回答�！拔矣幸粋�(gè)兒子，今年15歲，是個(gè)挺不錯(cuò)的孩子。他在學(xué)校表現(xiàn)很好。今年夏天我們想讓他參加一個(gè)夏令營(yíng)活動(dòng)，但是他卻想做一份兼職。但一個(gè)15歲的孩子是不可能被聘用的，除非他的老爹認(rèn)識(shí)某個(gè)開(kāi)公司的人，可惜我不認(rèn)識(shí)這樣的人�！蔽彝ｎD了一下。“不知道你有沒(méi)有可能幫他找到一份暑期工作——不要薪水都行？”

他還是不說(shuō)話。我開(kāi)始覺(jué)得跟他提出這個(gè)話題真是愚蠢極了。最后，在接近終點(diǎn)的坡道上，他說(shuō)，“唔，醫(yī)學(xué)專(zhuān)業(yè)的學(xué)生有個(gè)暑期研究項(xiàng)目�；蛟S可以把他安排進(jìn)來(lái)。讓他把他的學(xué)習(xí)成績(jī)寄給我看看�！�

他想從口袋里摸一張名片給我，卻沒(méi)有找到�！澳阌屑垎幔俊彼麊�(wèn)道。我從棕色的午餐袋上撕下一片紙，他在上面潦草地寫(xiě)了些什么，付給我打的費(fèi)，然后就下車(chē)走了。那是我最后一次見(jiàn)他。當(dāng)天晚上，我與家人圍坐在餐桌邊吃飯的時(shí)候，我從襯衫口袋里拿出那張小紙片�！傲_比，”我自豪地宣布道，“這個(gè)可能給你帶來(lái)一份暑假工作�！彼�接過(guò)紙片大聲讀了出來(lái)：“弗雷德•普拉姆，紐約醫(yī)院。”

我妻子問(wèn)：“他是一個(gè)醫(yī)生嗎？”

我女兒?jiǎn)枺骸八�是一個(gè)李子嗎？”

我兒子問(wèn)：“他在開(kāi)玩笑吧？”

我對(duì)兒子軟硬兼施，使出了渾身解數(shù)，最后還威脅他說(shuō)要削減他的零花錢(qián)，他才在第二天早晨將自己的成績(jī)單寄了出去。我們拿這件事開(kāi)了好幾天的玩笑，但后來(lái)大家就逐漸淡忘了。

兩周后，當(dāng)我結(jié)束一天的工作回到家里，發(fā)現(xiàn)兒子一臉笑容，神采煥發(fā)。他遞給我一封裝在壓花信封里的信，收信人寫(xiě)著他的名字。信頭寫(xiě)著“弗雷德•普拉姆，醫(yī)學(xué)博士，神經(jīng)科主治醫(yī)生，紐約醫(yī)院�！毙爬镅�請(qǐng)他給普拉姆醫(yī)生的秘書(shū)打電話預(yù)約面試。

羅比最后得到了那份工作。作為志愿者工作兩周后，那個(gè)暑假剩下的時(shí)間里他拿到了每周40美元的薪水。當(dāng)他身穿白大褂跟在普拉姆醫(yī)生后面為他跑前跑后的時(shí)候，他覺(jué)得自己比實(shí)際上重要多了。

接下來(lái)的那個(gè)夏天，羅比再次來(lái)到紐約醫(yī)院做暑期工。但是這一次，他承擔(dān)了更多的責(zé)任。隨著高中畢業(yè)的臨近，普拉姆醫(yī)生還好心地為他寫(xiě)大學(xué)推薦信。令我們欣喜不已的是，羅比最終被布朗大學(xué)錄取了。

第三個(gè)暑假，他依然在紐約醫(yī)院做暑假工，并慢慢喜歡上醫(yī)療行業(yè)。大學(xué)畢業(yè)的時(shí)候，羅比向醫(yī)學(xué)院遞交了申請(qǐng)，而普拉姆醫(yī)生再次為他寫(xiě)了推薦信，證明他有相關(guān)的學(xué)術(shù)能力，并且性格也很適合做醫(yī)學(xué)方面的研究。

羅比被紐約醫(yī)學(xué)院錄取了。在獲得醫(yī)學(xué)學(xué)位后，他在婦產(chǎn)科做了四年的實(shí)習(xí)醫(yī)生。

羅伯特•斯特恩醫(yī)生，一個(gè)出租車(chē)司機(jī)的兒子，成了哥倫比亞長(zhǎng)老教會(huì)醫(yī)學(xué)中心婦產(chǎn)科的住院總醫(yī)師。一些人可能會(huì)認(rèn)為這是命運(yùn)使然，我也這樣想。但是它也表明一些重大的機(jī)會(huì)往往來(lái)自于看似平淡無(wú)奇的邂逅——甚至一次再普通不過(guò)的出租車(chē)之行。

The Taxi Driver and the Doctor

For 28 years, three months, and 12 days, I drove a New York City taxi. Now, if you were to ask me what I had for breakfast yesterday, I probably couldn’t tell you.

But the memory of one fare is so vivid, I’ll remember it all my days in this world.It was a sunny Monday morning in the spring of 1966. I was cruising down York Avenue looking for a customer, but with the beautiful weather, it was kind of slow. I had stopped at a light just opposite New York Hospital when I spied a well-dressed man dashing down the hospital steps. He was hailing me.

Just then, the light turned green, the driver behind me honked impatiently, and I heard a cop’s whistle. But I wasn’t about to lose this ride. Finally, the man reached the cab and jumped in.“LaGuardia Airport, please,” He said. “And thanks for waiting.”

Good news, I thought. On Monday morning, LaGuardia is hopping, and with a little luck, I could get back-to-back fares. That would make my day.

As always, I wondered about my passenger. Was this guy a talker, a mummy, a newspaper reader? After a few moments, he started a conversation. It began ordinarily enough: “How do you like driving a cab?”

It was a stock question, and I gave him my stock answer. “It’s OK,” I said. “I make a living and meet interesting people sometimes. But if I could get a job making $100 a week more, I’d take it-just like you would.”

His reply intrigued me. “I would not change jobs if it meant I had to take a cut of a hundred a week.”

I’d never heard anyone say such a thing. “What do you do?”

“I’m in the neurology department at New York Hospital.”

I’ve always been curious about people, and I’ve tried to learn what I could from them. Many times during long rides, I’d developed a rapport with my passengers-and quite often I’d received very good advice from accountants, lawyers, and plumbers.

Maybe it was that this fellow clearly loved his work; maybe it was just the pleasant mood of a spring morning. But I decided to ask for his help. We were not far from the airport now, so I plunged ahead.

“Could I ask a big favor of you?” He didn’t answer. “I have a son, 15, a good kid. He’s doing well in school. We’d like him to go to camp this summer, but he wants a job. But a 15-year-old can’t get hired unless his old man knows someone who owns a business, and I don’t.” I paused. “Is there any possibility that you might get him some kind of a summer job-even if he doesn’t get paid?”

He still wasn’t talking, and I was starting to feel foolish for bringing up the subject. Finally, at the ramp to the terminal, he said, “Well, the medical students have a summer research project. Maybe he could fit in. Have him send me his school record.”

He fished around in his pocket for a card but couldn’t find one. “Do you have any paper?” he asked.

I tore off a piece of my brown lunch bag, and he scribbled something and paid me.It was the last time I ever saw him.

That evening, sitting around the dining room table with my family, I pulled the scrap from my shirt pocket. “Robbie,” I announced proudly, “this could be a summer job for you.” He read it out loud: “Fred Plum, N.Y. Hosp.”

My wife: “Is he a doctor?”

My daughter:“Is he a plum?”

My son: “Is this a joke?”

After I nagged, cajoled, yelled, and finally threatened to cut off his allowance,Robbie sent off his grades the next morning. The fruit jokes continued for a few days,but gradually the incident was forgotten.

Two weeks later, when I arrived home from work, my son was beaming. He handed me a letter addressed to him on richly embossed paper. The letterhead read “Fred Plum, MD, Neurologist-in-Chief, New York Hospital.” He was to call Dr.Plum’s secretary for an interview.Robbie got the job. After working for two weeks as a volunteer, he was paid $40 a week for the rest of the summer. The white lab coat he wore made him feel a lot more important than he really was as he followed Dr. Plum around the hospital, doing minor tasks for him.

The following summer, Robbie worked at the hospital again, but this time, he was given more responsibility. As high school graduation neared, Dr. Plum was kind enough to write letters of recommendation for college. Much to our delight, Robbie was accepted at Brown University.

He worked at the hospital for a third summer and gradually developed a love of the medical profession. As college graduation approached, Robbie applied to medical school,and Dr. Plum again wrote letters attesting to his ability and character.

Robbie was admitted to New York Medical College and, after getting his medical degree, did a four-year residency specializing in obstetrics and gynecology.

Dr. Robert Stern, the son of a taxicab driver, became OB-GYN chief resident at Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center.

Some might call it fate, and I guess it was. But it shows you that big opportunities can come out of ordinary encounters-even something as ordinary as a taxi ride.