(Carl knew the car was meant to be his the first time he saw it, months before the eyes came into his life. Poor gorgeous thing, being absolutely neglected by an old retired white hippie who had priors for a protest back in the seventies still on his record. Punched a cop but got off with probation, then. This time, with Carl’s help in the form of a planted gun, the hippie landed upstate for a few years—and now a beautiful car is where it belongs. The universe’s reward is the eyes, thanks to which Carl has never tried to plant evidence again.)
