He sold his dad’s old Saab 92 to pay for it. It was only marginally newer, admittedly, and quite a run-down Saab 93 at that,
but a man was not a proper man until he had bought his own car, felt Ove.
And so it was. It was a time of change in the country.
People moved and found new jobs and bought televisions, and the newspapers started talking about a “middle class.”
Ove didn’t quite know what this was, but he was well aware that he was not a part of it.
The middle classes moved into new housing developments with straight walls and carefully trimmed lawns,
and it soon grew clear to Ove that his parental home stood in the way of progress.
And if there was anything this middle class was not enamored of, it was whatever stood in the way of progress.
Ove received several letters from the council about what was called “the redrawing of municipal boundaries.”
He didn’t quite understand the content of these letters,
but he understood that his parental home did not fit among the new-built houses on the street.
The council notified him of their intention to force him to sell the land to them so the house could be demolished and another built in its place.
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