“2024,” the voice whispered. “Dat is… later dan verwacht. Zijn de lichten nog aan?”
Felix didn’t believe in ghosts. He believed in blown fuses, corroded ground wires, and the quiet dignity of a 1997 Volvo 940. The car, a rust-bucket hearse on wheels, was his latest resurrection project. And the final piece of the puzzle was the stereo: a vintage Davilon Autoradio, all brushed aluminum and satisfyingly heavy knobs. Davilon Autoradio Handleiding
The first page was boring: wiring diagrams (yellow to constant 12V, red to ignition, black to ground). Felix soldered the connections, the radio glowed a soft amber, and a beautiful, staticky silence filled the car. The tuner knob spun smoothly, but picked up nothing but the ghost of a distant AM preacher. “2024,” the voice whispered
The next morning, he went to the scrapyard, ripped the Davilon Autoradio out of the dashboard, and buried it under three tons of scrap metal. He believed in blown fuses, corroded ground wires,
