每天上学的路上,我总能看见一个忙碌的身影。远远望去,他的背微微有点驼,似乎饱经沧桑。走近一瞧,他是一个60多岁的老人。从那密密麻麻刻在他面庞上的皱纹中可以看出,他肯定经历了很多生活的考验。他头发花白,略显蓬乱,总是穿着一件藏青色的“工作服”,上面油迹斑斑。无论春夏秋冬还是严寒酷暑,他总是在自己破旧而简陋的小铺子旁等待人们来修车。那双粗糙的手上满是油污,布满老茧。每一个老茧上都凝聚着他的心血与汗水。 On the way to school every day, I can always see a busy figure. From afar, his back slightly a bit camel, it seems that the vicissitudes of life. Closer look, he is a 60-year-old man. As can be seen from the wrinkles that have been engraved on his face, he has certainly experienced many tests of life. His gray hair, slightly disheveled, always wearing a navy blue “work clothes”, the top traces of oil. Whether spring, summer, autumn or winter or severe cold and heat, he always waits for people to repair the car in his dilapidated and primitive small shop. The rough hands were full of oil and covered with calluses. Every cocoon embodies his effort and sweat.