He gave the metal pole a firm kick. Not that it was wonky or anything, but it’s always best to check.
Ove is the sort of man who checks the status of all things by giving them a good kick.
He walked across the parking area and strolled back and forth along all the garages
to make sure none of them had been burgled in the night or set on fire by gangs of vandals.
Such things had never happened around here, but then Ove had never skipped one of his inspections either.
He tugged three times at the door handle of his own garage, where his Saab was parked.
Just like any other morning. After this, he detoured through the guest parking area, where cars could only be left for up to twenty-four hours.
Carefully he noted down all the license numbers in the little pad he kept in his jacket pocket,
and then compared these to the licenses he had noted down the day before.
On occasions when the same license numbers turned up in Ove’s notepad,
Ove would go home and call the Vehicle Licensing Authority to retrieve the vehicle owner’s details,
after which he’d call up the latter and inform him that he was a useless bloody imbecile who couldn’t even read signs.
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