I once had a
1982 Subaru with
three headlights; there was an extra one in the middle that could be turned on independently of the others. We called it a
third nostril. Driving in rural
Bucks County, PA at night, when a car came towards me I'd turn on the
third nostril in the hope of passing for a
space alien. They probably didn't think that, but I'd like to know what they did think.
In the fullness of time, that car
laid down like a sick animal and it just couldn't get up. It stopped eating. I held it and petted it while the vet gave it the injection, and then I buried it in a
shoebox in the back yard. Poor little
Subaru . . .
Actually, when its time came, I sold it to somebody for fifty bucks. The
electrical system was completely
shot to hell and the rear wheels couldn't be removed.
Anyhow, with a sufficiency of
1982 Subarus, an overall average of two
headlights per car could be maintained indefinitely.