creamy visitor-donuts on the asphalt a couple of miles from Sweden’s geographic centre point was met with silence.
- We tabled the discussion with insurance of further negotiation but in reality the spirit to the editor in chief post had been destroyed, from both ends. That was late November 2003.
My first journey as reporter for Worldkustom started recently, twelve years later Wednesday the 13th of May 2015. The cream yellow project car Lincoln Mark V from 1977 baptized to Cuba Lincoln stood with a full tank on the
yard. First stop Järvsö. It’s the strangest thing, cars and their age. A Ford 55 was a really ancient car when I was 18, 1975. It was then 20 years old. In 2015 I drove a Mark V from 1977 with a bad conscience showing up to the enthusiast’s house in such a new car. In reality, twice the age of a 55 in 1975. I had a feeling of chickening out. What can happen with a car as new as a 77 Lincoln? At least I felt better knowing that I threw out the spare before the 600 mile journey. People driving with spare tires are bureaucrats turning papers on Social Services. Järvsö went great. Sun and key starts and no noise. Next stop Lobonäs, a Mecca of cars, then hobby city Holmsveden and then a hotel night somewhere but the Lincoln felt too cozy to stop driving so we rolled into the night and enjoyed everything. In Hofors the rain paid a visit and in Långshyttan the exhaust pipe fell down. Clogs, Krantz jacket, rain, black asphalt and crawling alongside a car with sawed off springs. Found a grass ditch. Got the arm to reach underneath the rocker and there I reached a stop. No flashlight. Fingered for the parted pipe joint. Blindly tinkered with it with my three longest fingers, looked up in the black sky, felt the rain in my face and chuckled out loud. THIS is when you live!
Searched for the keys in the grass for a while. Found them, drove off. After just twenty yards the exhaust pipe fell down again. The front end was scuffing, giving a clinking sound. Turned up the stereo and drove to Hedemora. The OK gas station in Hedemora was closed but positioned the rear wheels on a road bump next to the pumps and started the operation with seriousness and a 13 spanner on the exhaust joint. Exhaust work in the darkness. Kept the eyes on the ceiling. Do you know how many down curves there are on OK’s roof between outer edge and first fluorescent light in Hedemora? Ten. Wiped my hands off a cloth in the trash and waved to the surveillance camera at 11:20 PM. Headed north, slept at Scandic Hotel in Borlänge.
Thursday. Brushed off the gravel on my jacket in the hotel room and headed for the breakfast buffet, got recognized.
– Aha, Krantz are you here?
Southbound again. Crazy rain. The distance between Säter and Hedemora was a 100 mile automatic wash. The reportage at Zacke’s was mostly coffee and carrot cake around the kitchen table. Speaking of automatic wash. In Enköping I was about to drive in when the side window fell down into the door. That little electrical that’s an option you know.
At this time, it could be a window-less drive back home to Norrland. A loud noise came from the window, like it had been pulverized or at least cut in half when I pushed the button in a try to pull it back up. Backed out, got the wash credited and tore the door apart in the parking lot. Off with screws, interior, handles, wires, sockets, paper, plastic and speakers to reveal the triangular window in recovery position at the bottom of the door and would you look at that. Totally intact, not one crack. American steel, I mean glass, some sturdy stuff!