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 cab 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 darned if it wasn’t 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 (困惑的) . “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 depot in her car, she began telling me a story. A few days earlier, her brother had run out of gas. A good Samaritan (撒马利亚人) 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.”