He went back to his work as a night cleaner on the railways. Grew quieter than ever.
The old lady whose room he rented eventually grew so tired of his gloomy face that she arranged for him to borrow a nearby garage.
After all, the boy had that car he was always fiddling with, she said. Maybe he could keep himself entertained with all that?
Ove took his entire Saab to pieces in the garage the next morning. He cleaned all the parts, and then put them together again.
To see if he could do it. And to have something to do.
When he was done with it, he sold the Saab at a profit and bought a newer but otherwise identical Saab 93.
The first thing he did was to take it to pieces. To see if he could manage it. And he could.
His days passed like this, slow and methodical. And then one morning he saw her.
She had brown hair and blue eyes and red shoes and a big yellow clasp in her hair.
And then there was no more peace and quiet for Ove.
A MAN CALLED OVE AND A CLOWN CALLED BEPPO
“Ove’s funny,” titters the three-year-old with delight.
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