Local Trivia: In which Gene puts his eye out.

Last Saturday, after having had Gene in for a PCV valve-area cleaning (because it turns out Gene doesn't have or need a PCV valve) and suturing a new door onto his crushed passenger side (from a previous owner's collision), I drove Gene to work.

On the way, he spit out his left front blinker light onto the highway and promptly ran over it.

We're not talking lightbulb here; we're talking the entire signal light assembly. Three little wires protrude from his gaping socket now, and my turn signal clicker clicks madly whenever I need to turn left, reminding me always of what he's done.

If before I felt like the Cranstonator was a crotchety old war veteran in need of some rehabilitative attention, now I'm beginning to wonder whether he's just plain crotchety. Putting out your own eye, for spite? That seems extreme and alarming. These bids for attention are not generally what Volvos are known for; they're supposed to be safe even in dangerous scenarios, like a shark cage you can drive around in. That implies dependability to me, and things like keeping all your parts in where they should be.

On the other hand, G.C.'s radio, an after-market add with a CD player, seems to get a better signal than Betty's or than my indoor CD player/radio, so if he insists on being a curmudgeon, well, at least I'll have an extremely safe place to stretch out and listen to NPR.