问答题Directions:Read the following text carefully and then
translate the underlined segments into Chinese.
I remember the day I knew that the white spaces on the map were the
places for me. I was 25, suburban-raised and driving to the West for the first
time. In late October I raced through the East and across the Great Plains.
{{U}} {{U}} 1 {{/U}} {{/U}}{{U}}When I reached the Rockies,
though, I eased off the accelerator, pulled out the dog-eared Rand McNally and
began to follow the meandering green dashes that were marked as "scenic
routes"{{/U}}. As they wound through the green splotches of national forests and
past an Oz of unfamiliar names—Uncompahgre, Yampa, Uinta—I felt as if I was
following a treasure map. Near dry Vernal, Utah, I saw a sign for yet another
name, Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area. I turned, and turned again, until
soon my packed Volkswagen was jouncing down a rutted dirt road.
{{U}} {{U}} 2 {{/U}} {{/U}}{{U}}The air was cold but the day was
bright, and I rode with the windows down, not minding the cold and dust as G[*]tterdammerung clouds swept shadows
across endless sage.{{/U}} A herd of antelope raced us, the old VW and me, through
the grass—"their mouths open," as Gretel Ehrlich wrote in "The Solace of Open
Spaces," "as if drinking in the space." {{U}} {{U}} 3 {{/U}}
{{/U}}{{U}}Then the road suddenly ended at a sea in the desert—Flaming Gorge
Reservoir—where buttes floated like steamships, and those operatic clouds pushed
offstage toward Wyoming.{{/U}} The desert light slanted down, the wind plucked at
the water. Standing there—alone, not to be found for days if the car had broken
down—I don't think I'd ever been happier. In the years since,
I've sought out remoteness whenever I could. I'm not a loner. {{U}}
{{U}} 4 {{/U}} {{/U}}{{U}}Of ten I go with two or three friends; big
country has a way of sharpening the connections between the people you choose to
surround yourself with.{{/U}} These trips are guided by an unstated hypothesis: a
trip is memorable in inverse proportion to the number of bars of coverage on
your mobile phone. Way out there—away from what the writer Edward Abbey, that
solitude greedy coot, called "syphilization"—is my sweet spot as a
traveler. The premise has held up well. {{U}} {{U}}
5 {{/U}} {{/U}}{{U}}Mountain biking at 11,000 feet on a stretch of the
high-and-wild Colorado Trail between Monarch Pass and Telluride, I saw with
fresh eyes how mountains knitted themselves together, how creeks dove to seek
other creeks, and dove again until they earned the name of river.{{/U}}