Feel like driving a car today?” I asked my son on the telephone.
Several minutes earlier, one of the local car dealers had telephoned and asked if I might pick up a new car in 1)Vidalia and bring it back to 2)Brunswick.
“Always use a little extra Christmas money,” replied Roger Junior. “Let me change clothes and I’ll be over in a few minutes,” he said. 
It was about 6:30 in the morning when we made our way onto the 95 interstate freeway, heading 3)northbound. As we traveled along it was suggested that I buy breakfast for the two of us. Being a little hungry, I agreed and 4)pulled off at the next exit.
Very carefully, I pulled into a parking space located right next to a handicap spot. I smiled back as one of the two women said “Good morning” to us as they were unloading a wheelchair from the side of a large white van.
Sitting in the wheelchair was a gentleman dressed in a military uniform. I looked down and noticed that both his pant legs were folded beneath his knees. I also noticed officer’s 5)bars on his uniform.
“Good morning, Captain,” I said as I 6)saluted him.
“And a good morning to you, sir,” he replied back.
The five of us traveled up the narrow walkway to the door of the small restaurant. Not thinking, I stepped up a three-inch cement 7)curb and opened the door for the Captain and the two women. 
“There’s a wheelchair 8)ramp located on the other side of the building,” said a large man with a 9)nametag, who came walking very quickly out the front door.
“In the last two years I’ve 10)scaled walls higher than this building, ran up and down 11)rubble piles higher than three of my vans piled atop one another. I think I can make it over this curb,” said the officer.
“I’m sure you can, sir,” said the man, as he also saluted the Captain.
Roger Jr. and I grabbed hold of the wheelchair handles and, as the soldier pushed forward on the wheels of his chair, Roger and I pushed forward. Up and over the cement 12)hump he went, with no difficulty, whatsoever.
As one of the women pushed him through the doorway of the restaurant, the large man wearing a nametag 13)snatched a small sign down, which had been 14)taped to the glass door.
“I saw that,” said the Captain, as he laughed.
“This sign was never meant to include heroes,” said the manager, as he hid the sign behind himself. “In fact this sign will never appear in this doorway, ever again,” he continued, as he 15)wadded up the piece of paper.
“I am a writer. May I have that, please?” I asked the man. Slowly, he handed me the wadded up piece of paper, which I stuck into my pants pocket.
The sign read: “No Shoes—No Shirt—No Service.”
今天想开车吗？”我在电话中问儿子。
几分钟之前，一位本地的汽车经销商打电话问我能否去维达黎亚市取一辆新车，并把它开回不伦瑞克市。
“总要花掉一些圣诞节预算之外的钱。”我的儿子小罗杰回答道，“我先去换衣服，几分钟后就到。”他说。
当我们把车驶进95号州际高速公路，并向北进发时，时间大约是早上6点半。一路前进时，儿子提议我去给我们俩买早餐吃。我也有点饿了，便同意他的想法，并在高速公路的下一个出口处把车开了下来。
我小心翼翼地把车开进停车场的一个空位里，旁边恰好就是一个为残疾人士准备的车位。两位女士正把一架轮椅从一辆白色面包车的一旁卸下来，其中一位向我们说了声“早上好”，我对她报以微笑。
轮椅上坐着的是一位身穿军装的男士。我向下看了看，留意到他两条裤管被折高了塞在膝盖下。我还注意到了他制服上的军阶线。
“早上好，上校。”我边说边向他敬了个礼。
“你也早上好，先生。”他回答。
我们五人一起穿过狭窄的过道，到了一家小餐厅的门口。我不假思索地踏上3英寸高的水泥台阶，为上校和那两位女士开门。
“大楼的另一边有专用的轮椅坡道，”一位胸前佩带了姓名牌的壮汉快步走到前门外说道。
“过去两年里，我攀越过比这栋建筑更高的墙，还经常在比三辆我的面包车垒起来的高度还要高的石堆上冲上冲下。我想这水泥台阶对我来说不成问题。”这位军官说道。
“这是当然的，先生。”那位男子说道，同时也向上校敬了个礼。
我和小罗杰都紧紧抓住了轮椅两旁的把手。当上校推着两个轮子向前时，我和罗杰也帮忙用力向前推。最后，他毫不费力地越过了那个水泥台阶。
当其中一位女士推着上校经过餐厅的过道时，那位佩带着姓名牌的壮汉把原先粘贴在玻璃门上的一张小告示迅速摘了下来。
“我早就看到了，”上校笑着说。
“这张告示的对象从不包括英雄，”经理一边把那张告示藏在身后一边说道。“事实上，这张告示永远不会再出现在这条过道上，永远不会。”他把那张纸揉成了一团，继续说道。
“我是一位作家，请问你能把那个给我吗？”我问那位男士。他犹豫了一会，然后把那张揉皱的纸递给了我。我把它塞进裤袋里。
那告示写着：“不穿鞋或上衣者，恕不接待。”