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Ah, the Swedes. Meatballs. Fondue. Fish. Abba. Inexpensive furniture warehouses that call white people like a hex key-shaped crack pipe.
But the Swedish also dig early American hot rods, for some great reason. Hey, we get it, really we do. But what we really dig is the chance to see a neat little flathead-powered, cut-down Sport Coupe running through the Swedish countryside to a particularly haunting cover of “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.” There’s just a dichotomy here that seems to work for us. Call us stollig…