What I would really like is to have a town namned after me. How hard can it be? Olofville was really called Clocktown before Olof came along, making changes.
– Yeah, but that Olof must have really been somethin’ huh?
Naw, I don’t know about that. He bought an foreclosed iron factory and started making clothes. Bigger things have happened. It doesn’t seem to be the reason why. 
The Cuba Lincoln is sniffing alongside road 56 in 50 mph. It gets you time to think. Road 56 by the way. Sounds un-named.
I have to be advised by Karin to see how she did it. Karin moors is alongside road 56. It’s not as nice with a moor as a city, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. Stalin slaughtered an entire nation and for that he got a subway station in Paris.
– That’s it!
You can name other stuff than roads and cities. I slow down to 30 mph and start reading bus stops along road 56.
– They’ve got names!
It could be hard to get a city named after you I mean. They seem to be all out of name-less cities. By the way, in Norrland cities are left empty all the time when the teenage girls deserts their snow-mobile to squeeze into a one-room apartment outside Stockholm to wash dishes for Blondinbella as she sits farting in a corner.
Kramfors is otherwise perfect both location wise and has a sound to it for a name change but the risk is, they fall out of the premier league and turns into a Köping if the snow-mobile guys will keep on asking, where’s the chick?
Magnus Huss demolished an entire city by trenching and named a waterfall that’s run dry, Death Falls. If you want to be immortal, you can’t get picky.
Svartsmörja and Horsbo.
Back to the bus stops. The named patches of asphalt along road 56 is called in chronological order: Olovsfors, Fasenbo, Ingbo, Rödmossa, Blomsterängen, Krukbo and Mårtsbo.
A truck honks in full compressor horn-mode and pass me on the inside in a curve as I’m leaning towards the passenger seat.
I’m down doing 25 to be able to read the bus signs.
Further south they got names as Asplunda, Övre Store, Källviken, Västerbo and Horsbo (Hoockerville), the latter seems to be the Reeperbahn of Heby.
-”You know we only got 20 years left to live, right”.
Calle Lundkvist, who built Sweden’s largest car museum in Härnösand, told me as we strolled through the museum and it wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
I want to name a bus stop NOW. That Hoockerville can’t be that expensive to rename. If he got Olofström from a foreclosure forge I could probably get the bus stop Hoockerville for a web magazine. .
Have to talk to Karin and her moor, how she did it and that Ingbo (Nonville) almost sound like vacant.
Another way to go would be to part from the motor theme. Part from cars and diesel like in towns, roads and bus stops. There’s a track in Sälen called Sigge!
– Next to it is the track Emma.
Maybe I could put my name on a piece of exposed land on some hill in Härjedalen.
Krantz path, where Fjällräven backpacks can eat muesli while the socks are hung out to dry on a branch in the wind.
So far away from Cadillacs Climat Control you can get.
Like I said:
If you want to be immortal, beggars can’t be choosers.
Last resort is changing name.
I’ve found a cul-de-sac with three houses in Bollnäs.
– It’s called Krans Street.
