HLM – Chapter 142 Floor It!

The boss of Highway Motors was a man named Rudiel Bonner, around forty years old. According to him, he dropped out of high school to learn car repair, later opened a car dealership, and gradually expanded it into what it was today.

He recognized Wang Bo at a glance because he had also attended the school charity auction and witnessed firsthand Wang Bo’s dramatic bid for the gold coin.

Yes, it was indeed dramatic. For residents of a small town earning two to three thousand a month, bidding tens of thousands on a gold coin for charity was absolutely a bold feat.

Bonner himself earned far more than that, of course, but seeing Wang Bo steal the spotlight from Thornton and thoroughly embarrass him—he considered that a feat too.

In conversation, Bonner made no effort to hide his contempt for Thornton. Clearly, “rivalry among peers” applied across all professions.

After a brief chat, Wang Bo expressed his intention to purchase the Marauder.

Bonner readily agreed and told Wang Bo frankly that this vehicle had originally been ordered by a customer. But after Bonner collected the deposit and brought in the armored vehicle, the customer suddenly backed out.

Compared to the deposit, the full payment for the vehicle was a massive amount. A car like this had no market in a small town—who would need it?

Bonner thought he was stuck with it, but never expected someone like Wang Bo would come by and take it off his hands.

The Marauder—this super vehicle—was both rugged and delicate. Rugged in terms of performance, but delicate in terms of maintenance. It was a true beast and couldn’t be left idle for long. It needed to be driven at least every other day.

The reason it wasn’t at the store earlier was that Bonner had taken it out for one of those drives.

When handing over the car to Wang Bo, Bonner gave him a few important tips—timely oil changes, tire maintenance, and regular engine-transmission tuning. This wasn’t a collector’s car; if left unused for too long, it would deteriorate fast.

Wang Bo had no intention of letting it sit idle. Even if he didn’t drive it, those wolf-like cowboys around him surely would.

Bonner was an honest businessman. He told Wang Bo someone had already paid a deposit of fifty thousand, so he could knock twenty-five thousand off the price. The total would be just 775,000.

Wang Bo’s only concern now was whether the car was road-legal. Both Charlie and Bonner assured him: as long as he didn’t drive into the heart of any big cities, he could roam all other roads freely.

That reassurance put Wang Bo at ease. He had no plans to drive into city centers—country roads were enough. For him, this car would serve perfectly as a patrol vehicle for the small-town police station.

Some police departments in the U.S. do equip light armored vehicles. Now that Wang Bo had the Marauder, he felt like his police station finally had its trump card. Even if terrorists came to town, he’d be ready.

The Marauder was a brutally powerful vehicle—combat-ready, with three possible configurations: infantry patrol vehicle, command center, or battlefield ambulance.

Its body was made from a composite of steel–ceramic–steel, able to withstand the force of a 7-kg TNT explosion. The tires were bullet-resistant, capable of running at least 50 km even after being punctured by 12.7mm rounds.

One million New Zealand dollars later, three giant beasts had officially entered Wang Bo’s domain.

His Hummer H3T was already imposing, but compared to the Marauder, it looked like a little sidekick. Off the battlefield, the Marauder was the undisputed king.

Wang Bo still needed a truck, but those couldn’t be found locally. He placed an online order for a Peterbilt 389 long-nose truck to be delivered from Dunedin.

The name Peterbilt 389 might not ring a bell for most people, but its icon certainly would: the image representative of this model was none other than Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots.

With the new vehicles in hand, Wang Bo gave the command—and the four vehicles rumbled off in a grand convoy back to the town.

Wang Bo had a bit of a stubborn streak. “You show me an inch of respect, I’ll give you a mile in return. But if you mess with me by an inch—I’ll dig up your ancestors!”

Thornton’s earlier humiliation was still fresh in his mind. On the way back, Wang Bo specifically directed the convoy to pass by the Toyota dealership.

He reminded his men: “When we get to the dealership, don’t you dare hold back. Floor it and lean on the horns. Got it?!”

“Yes, boss!”

Inside the Toyota dealership, Thornton was skillfully persuading William and his son to buy a Lexus RC-F.

It was one of Toyota’s high-end models, priced at 150,000 NZD in New Zealand. No wonder Thornton had ignored Wang Bo earlier—an ordinary Ford pickup only cost 50–60k. The price gap was enormous.

As he praised the RC-F’s features, a distant rumble of engines could be heard outside. But he paid it no mind—this street was full of car dealerships; engine noise was nothing unusual.

But then, the roar grew louder—much louder—until it suddenly became a thunderous bellow, like a giant beast letting out a furious roar. The decibels shot up, startling Thornton so badly that he flinched!

He had been handing coffee to young William, but the jolt caused his hand to tremble, and the hot coffee spilled right onto the boy’s hand.

“Ah, shit! That burns!” cried young William in pain.

As Thornton scrambled to apologize, he turned angrily toward the window. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass, he saw three gigantic monsters pull up in front of the dealership—roaring ferociously.

The engines weren’t just revving. The drivers were flooring the gas pedals, spewing thick clouds of smoke from incompletely burned diesel—like someone had set off smoke grenades. Within seconds, the outside of the dealership was engulfed in a dense fog.

Thornton was livid. He slammed the coffee cup on the table and shouted at his staff, “Go out there and see what’s going on! Damn it—see if that son of a bitch Bonner is provoking me again!”

There was only one Marauder in the entire town—and Thornton knew exactly who it belonged to. After all, he had schemed with a friend to screw Bonner over to get it. So, he instantly recognized it.

So did the sales assistants. The Marauder was way too intimidating. None of them dared go out. They knew all about their boss’s underhanded dealings and feared this might be Bonner’s revenge. What if the vehicle accidentally rammed into them?

With its sheer size and horsepower, the Marauder could plow through not just people—but even walls.

Thornton was furious. Enraged by his staff’s cowardice, he grabbed one of them and started shouting insults.

The employee didn’t dare talk back, head bowed meekly. But inside, he was cursing Thornton for being all bark and no bite. If he had any guts, he’d go out himself and see if Bonner really would run him over.

Finally, after cloaking the area in a cloud of artificial smoke, the giant vehicles swaggered off.

William and his son left too. Thornton rushed to stop them, but William shook off his hand in disgust.

“I need to take my son to get his skin checked—he’s been burned. And it was you—you, you damn idiot, who scalded him!”