My father took me to sell persimmons, a sad rural memory.

My father took me to Xianyang to sell persimmons. Who has the same experience as me?

1985, 17 years old, grade three. That year I had a National Day holiday, and my father was going to take my little sister and me to Xianyang to sell persimmons.

The night before the National Day, my parents fished out a pair of persimmons soaked in boiling water and cold water in the water tank, and packed them neatly in a shelf trunk, filled with square wooden boxes more than 20 centimeters deep. They packed their things for departure, brought dry food and water, and prepared to leave before dawn the next day.

The rooster crowed twice, I slept soundly, and my mother told me to get up quickly. She has got up to feed the cows, let them pull a cart, and send us a cart full of persimmons to the village entrance. Because the road from Mulu Village to Li Xiang (now called Li Xiang Highway, that is, 2 15 county road) has a long and steep soil slope of more than 300 meters, which needs the help of cattle. Mother sent us to the village entrance and watched us go far before bringing the cow back.

At this time, there was silence all around, looking up at the starry sky, the stars shone, and the Big Dipper blinked its sparkling eyes as if waving to me. A bright full moon hung in mid-air in the west, making the trees on the roadside faintly visible.

After all, I am very happy to leave for the first time. From our village entrance to Zhao Zhenlu's home, there is a ten-mile downhill road. Dad drives a car alone, and my little sister and I pull one together. Two cars start at the same time. A shelf car with more than 2000 persimmons weighs about 500 kilograms and has great inertia. I ran fast all the way ahead, but my father couldn't catch up with me at all. He shouted at the back, "Run slowly, what's the hurry?" Urged me ... "

When I arrived at Yuanshui in Zhaozhen, the sun climbed out and showed its smiling face. There are more pedestrians and vehicles on the road. After a short rest, we continued on our way. When I arrived at the intersection of Laojie in Liquan County, it was about 9 o'clock. In a steamed bun shop facing north on the east side of the cross, the father and son bought two bowls of steamed bread, one for their father and the other for their little sister. After eating this bowl of delicious boiled buns, my father urged me to go quickly, dare not delay, and then continued on my way without stopping. I know I have to get to Xianyang before dark and find a hotel to stay, or what if I don't stop?

After a hearty meal, I feel more energetic. Two shelf cars soon got on Silan Road. Like an arrow, I still ran all the way ahead, followed by my father and sister. I've been humming a ditty myself. We walked all the way, resting, and occasionally someone asked us, "Do you sell persimmons?"

Father said loudly, "Not for sale."

I was puzzled and asked my father, "Uncle, why not sell it?"

Father replied: "Guawa, sell it." If it is sold, won't it delay our trip? "

I didn't say anything after listening. Walking to Wang Yaodong in Liquan, passers-by asked, "How much is the persimmon?" When I threw out my father's "not for sale", passers-by also muttered, "Do you have persimmons for sale?" How can they understand our thoughts? I feel thirsty after eating the salty boiled steamed stuffed bun, and I have drunk a lot of water. I put up with it, but I felt thirsty, my throat was smoking, my eyes were dark and I couldn't open my eyes. The calf feels like lead, and the thigh seems to be out of control and can't walk. I held back, little sister shouted, elder brother, walk slowly.

Although the autumn sun is not as poisonous as the summer sun, we all feel hot and thirsty along the way. In the afternoon, I walked to Xingpingdian, Jang Jin, where there is a long slope of1200m. Although the slope is not too steep, it is impossible for a person to pull a car weighing five or six hundred kilograms. You have to change it. First, my father got off the bus and helped my little sister pull me up. Then my little sister looked at the car at the top of the slope, and my father and I went back to pull the second car. 1 1 year-old sister always shuttles back and forth between two cars, helping me push the cart, and my father pulls it. The father and son walked and talked, talking and laughing. When there was no one on the road, my father actually sang "My family lives in Jingzhou" ... Mahan dynasty shouted ... ".

Watching the sun set, the sky gradually darkened and the sun was about to set. We tried our best to get to Xianyang, Yuan Shang at dark. Fortunately, it is downhill, effortless. Hold down the shaft and the car will naturally run forward. I really can't move my legs. The car is pushing me. I turned to my little sister and asked, "Does your leg hurt?" The little sister said, "It hurts. Why doesn't it hurt? " We found a guest house near the west of Biyuan Road, with a large yard, all of which were farmers who came to Xianyang to sell persimmons.

When I walked into the humble hotel yard and walked on the road of 100 mile, I took a long breath. My bones are like a broken frame, very much like a deflated ball, lying on the ground. I just feel that my thigh hurts and I have nowhere to put it. No matter what I say, I feel sick. My father and I covered the car with plastic and went to bed early.

At dawn the next day, my father called me: "Guo Zhen, get up quickly, it's almost dawn." After a night's sleep, I feel my legs can relax, but I feel a dull pain when I walk. I ate my mother's dry food, Guo kui foam, and gave the landlord some water. I took two cars full of persimmons and hurried to Xianyang City.

I have no time to care about the beauty of such a big city. I just want to sell persimmons as soon as possible. In my memory, there is nothing good about the ancient capital city, except that the street is long and the road is wide, and the buildings are higher than the east high pad of Mulu Village.

In a secluded corner, we put the car away and opened the wooden box. While looking around, my father shouted loudly and intermittently: "Persimmons are sold for a dime-very sweet-free of charge ..." My little sister and I couldn't shout out anyway, and my father's rough and vigorous hawking echoed over the city. In order to attract passers-by and surrounding residents, my father never panicked, nor shouted solemnly, and he was not embarrassed at all. This frequent hawking attracted many pedestrians who came to buy persimmons.

Just then, a woman in her forties and fifties came forward, looked around and shouted for a cheaper price. "How about three for a dime?"

The father said, "No, not really."

The neatly dressed and fashionable woman bargained repeatedly, and her father said confidently, "Look, my persimmon is big and red, and it is scarred, so I dare not sell it cheaply."

The woman still didn't want to. Her father asked, "How much do you want to buy?"

The woman said, "I want more." After hearing this, my father was afraid of losing the buyer and vowed, "Here you are, the price is still 1 dime." You buy a dollar, I'll give you a few more. " The woman said, "Add more."

When the woman picked up twenty big persimmons, her father grabbed a few, handed them to her and quickly put them in her handbag. The woman nagged, took out a dollar in her right hand, put her left hand into the wooden box, but just took away some persimmons. Father said anxiously, "I dare not add any more." I gave you a few. " The woman picked up her bag and left, saying, "How many more!" "

My little sister and I have been standing by and seeing clearly. Looking at her distant back, I thought of Yang Er's sister-in-law in Lu Xun's hometown. My father is like a leap on the earth, and I am like one on the water.

Not long after, there were few persimmons left on the two cars, and my father decisively began to cut prices. Shouting loudly: "Persimmons are cheap, fifty cents-persimmons are cheap ..." Just as the voice fell, passers-by rushed to the front of the car, one for you and two for him. Father finally handed a dozen unsightly persimmons to an elderly grandmother with both hands, and she turned around and thanked her again and again.

At night, it was getting dark, and we dragged the empty-shelf car around the street, looking for a hotel to stay. I asked, "Bo, where are we going?"

Father said, "Let's go and have a look. Wherever you see a place to live, go there. "

I asked my father again, "Which direction are we going now?"

Father insisted, "Go north!" Is father missing? How does he go to the north? I think he's going south. If we want to go home, we must go to the north. Aren't we diametrically opposed?

Father insisted on his story and walked north. My father and I argued and argued, but there was no conclusion. I said, "Bob, why don't we ask?" "Then you ask."

Then I met a peer like my father. I crustily skin of head and asked loudly, "Uncle, do you think we are going north?"

The man replied, "This is going south." The 45-year-old father still didn't believe it, and the father and son argued while walking. In the dim light, a woman in plain clothes came over. My father pointed to the direction we were going and asked, "Sister, do you think this is going south or north?" Without hesitation, the other party said, "Facing south." After getting the same answer from two people, my father finally realized that we were going in the wrong direction. I quickly turned around and walked forward quickly. I vaguely heard my little sister sleeping and snoring in the car.

Fortunately, we took a truck on the road and even drove us back to Liquan County. Walking in the bright moonlight, after four hours of hiking, I finally got home after 1 in the morning.

When I woke up the next day, my father called my mother to the guard room. He unbuttoned his coat, dug out his upper and lower pockets, and searched all the fragments in his waist wallet. Mao Mao and Marat safin crossed, smiling and counting carefully. I clearly remember that two cars of persimmons actually sold for more than 500 yuan. In the days to come, my father often mentioned the kind truck driver.

Every autumn in the 1970s and 1980s, parents also staged the ups and downs of picking persimmons, warming persimmons, filling persimmons and selling persimmons ..... I can't remember how many times my father and two sisters have experienced it except that my father's feet have worn out dozens of pairs of cloth shoes made by my mother. ......