The Lanky One gives Ove a slightly startled glance, but he doesn’t quite seem to have the nerve to reply.
Instead he gets out of his car and stands beside it like a schoolboy in the dunce’s corner.
Ove points down the footpath between the row houses, towards the bicycle shed and the parking area.
“Go and stand where you’re not in the way.” The Lanky One nods, slightly puzzled.
“Holy Christ. A lower-arm amputee with cataracts could have backed this trailer more accurately than you,”
Ove mutters as he gets into the car. How can anyone be incapable of reversing with a trailer? he asks himself.
How? How difficult is it to establish the basics of right and left and then do the opposite?
How do these people make their way through life at all?
Of course it’s an automatic, Ove notes. Might have known.
These morons would rather not have to drive their cars at all, let alone reverse into a parking space by themselves.
He puts it into drive and inches forward.
Should one really have a driver’s license if one can’t drive a real car rather than some Japanese robot vehicle? he wonders.
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