HLM -Chapter 1218 Assisting a Police Operation

The training police vehicles were divided into two types. One was a sedan—the Ford Falcon. The other was an SUV—the Holden Captiva, a model Wang Bo knew very well, since Sunset Town had one just like it.

Having already had his fill of the Holden Captiva, his attention shifted to the Ford Falcon.

The Ford Falcon was a full-size car designed and manufactured by Ford’s Oceania division. It was a miracle in the history of automobile sales in the region, with more than three million units sold over forty-plus years.

This model was a famous muscle car—big and cheap. In the past, more than half of the taxis on Oceania’s streets were almost all this model, and it was also standard issue for the police.

However, in recent years, due to a decline in R&D investment and the fact that no small-displacement version had ever been introduced, its fuel consumption—nearly 20 liters per 100 kilometers—ran completely counter to the energy-saving and emissions-reduction policies popular worldwide. As a result, the car had lost most of its competitiveness.

The police version of the Falcon had been modified. It used a B-type engine independently developed by Ford’s Oceania branch: an inline six-cylinder with turbocharging, producing 210 kW of power, with a displacement of 4.0 liters. It was immensely satisfying to drive.

Everyone was familiar with this car, and aside from Wang Bo, most people showed little interest.

Officer Carlman said, “The police Falcon is different from what you’ve seen. Our cars are all equipped with V8 engines, 5.4 liters in displacement, with very strong explosive power. When you get in later, be careful.”

Sweet Guy crossed his arms and said to Wang Bo, “You like this car? My family has two. One belongs to my dad, one to my grandpa. My grandpa’s is a UTE—older than I am. It’s got to be forty years old.”

“It can still run?” Wang Bo asked in surprise. A UTE was similar to a pickup truck, and there were quite a few still active in New Zealand’s rural towns.

Sweet Guy shrugged. “When I was a kid, I wished every day that it would finally die so we could replace it with a better car. Unfortunately, that thing is unbelievably tough. It can still fly down the road to this day.”

Officer Carlman shot the two of them a glare. Noticing it, they immediately shut up—after all, this was class.

Most of them were trainees and had never actually worked as police officers, so they weren’t very familiar with the functions of police vehicles.

Carlman introduced everything to them: the work console, traffic policing systems, sirens and lights, how to use the radio, how to control the loudspeaker and radar speed detector—he went through all the functions first.

After the introduction, everyone was assigned a car to get familiar with.

Wang Bo chose a Falcon. After getting in, he yawned. The equipment inside wasn’t as comprehensive as that in their own police cars. He didn’t really need to familiarize himself with it—he already knew it inside out.

The entire day was devoted to driving. After learning the functions of the police vehicle equipment, they moved on to driving skills training, which was the main event.

First came high-speed driving. There was a long straight on the racetrack. When Wang Bo drove the Falcon, he floored the accelerator. The police car howled forward, racing ahead, and the speedometer needle slammed straight to the end!

Even on a straight, when accelerating to the extreme top speed of 260 kilometers per hour, some trainees couldn’t keep control of the car. One vehicle suddenly veered sharply. Fortunately, there was an instructor inside. The instructor quickly took over and managed to bring the car to a stop.

It was a close call. At such speeds, if the car flipped, even with the extra protective features on training vehicles, injuries would have been unavoidable.

The most dangerous part was skid training. This was designed to deal with lateral sliding that can occur when a car takes a high-speed turn. It was a mandatory test item.

Other things like drifting were even harder, but since they weren’t tested, they weren’t that important.

Before the skid training began, Instructor Carlman first showed them a large number of videos. All of them showed cars skidding while turning and failing to correct in time, resulting in accidents.

This kind of situation was very easy to encounter—whether because the road was slippery after rain, the speed was too high, or the tires were worn smooth, all of these could easily cause the vehicle to skid sideways.

However, the training cars had been modified. They were equipped with anti-skid control systems, and auxiliary wheels were installed on the outside of the driven wheels to prevent rollovers, so overall they were relatively safe.

When Wang Bo saw the auxiliary wheels, he found them quite amusing. They were just like the ones on a child’s bicycle—small wheels supporting both sides of the rear wheels. This car was the same.

When you first get into the car and suddenly encounter a skid during a turn, almost everyone panics. There’s no fixed formula for correction—you have to adjust based on the road surface, the condition of the car, and the severity of the skid.

Wang Bo didn’t do well the first time. The car spun a full circle right in the middle of the turn.

The instructor was clearly used to this kind of situation and even had the mood to joke. “When you get out, thank those auxiliary wheels. If it weren’t for them, buddy, you’d be upside down right now.”

Wang Bo: “…”

Uncle Bing and his son, as well as Sweet Guy, had a unique advantage in this exercise. Their cars also skidded, but they corrected easily.

After getting out of the cars, Uncle Bing and his son remained as quiet as ever, while Sweet Guy started boasting.

“I trained for this on purpose when I was in the military. Back then we practiced out in the Afghan wastelands. There were no protective measures at all—we just drove Humvees around spinning like crazy. It was dangerous as hell.”

“We had no choice but to train. You all know the situation in Afghanistan—at any moment a terrorist suicide vehicle could pop out, or you might have to chase down a desperate fugitive. Without solid driving skills, how could you survive?”

Someone asked Uncle Bing, “Where did you train?”

Uncle Bing smiled and said, “Also on a training ground.”

“Not on the battlefield?”

Uncle Bing answered honestly, “We only go to the battlefield after we’re fully trained. We don’t dare do anything there unless we’re completely confident.”

Hearing that, the trainees nodded. “Benjamin’s right. Sweet Guy, you’re definitely exaggerating.”

Sweet Guy chuckled.

Training continued until evening. They thought they could finally go back, but there was still a night class—assisting the Wellington police in investigating a road section where street racing occurred frequently.

Superintendent Ferguson Brown personally came to lead the team. He said, “You’ve all had a full day of driving training today. Tonight, we’ll put what you’ve learned to immediate use—and also show you the consequences faced by street racers.”

Instructor Carlman served as the deputy commander and explained the operation. “We’re assisting in this action. The Wellington police will be primarily responsible. Our job is to help keep an eye on the street racers who are arrested.”

“However, if special circumstances arise, we may also need to engage in vehicle pursuits. At that time, you’ll be required to apply what you learned today.”

“Remember—I know you’ve all seen The Fast and the Furious. In those movies, muscle-bound guys floor supercars, smash into each other, walk away unscathed, open the doors calmly, and start brawling. Don’t be fooled by that kind of idiotic scene. If you dare do that in real life, all we’ll be able to do afterward is lay flowers on your coffin.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a burst of laughter erupted.