“You know, before it switches from the electric motor to the gas-driven motor. Because it’s a hybrid...”
Ove doesn’t answer. He just slowly rolls up the window, leaving the Lanky One outside with his mouth half-open.
Ove checks the left wing mirror. Then the right wing mirror.
He reverses while the Japanese car shrieks in terror, maneuvers the trailer perfectly between his own house and his incompetent new neighbor’s,
gets out, and tosses the cretin his keys. “Reverse radar and parking sensors and cameras and crap like that.
A man who needs all that to back up with a trailer shouldn’t be bloody doing it in the first place.”
The Lanky One nods cheerfully at him. “Thanks for the help,” he calls out, as if Ove hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes insulting him.
“You shouldn’t even be allowed to rewind a cassette,” grumbles Ove.
The pregnant woman just stands there with her arms crossed, but she doesn’t look quite as angry anymore.
She thanks him with a wry smile, as if she’s trying not to laugh. She has the biggest brown eyes Ove has ever seen.
“The Residents’ Association does not permit any driving in this area,
and you have to bloody go along with it,” Ove huffs, before stomping back to his house.
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