HLM – Chapter 727 Plains Tyrannosaurus

Then Bowen, grinning, started showing Wang Bo the vehicle.

This machine — a name even more domineering than its looks — is fitted with a Kawasaki ZZR1400CC engine and Kawasaki’s 6-speed gearbox. It’s powerful and explosive; even on the beach it can easily hit a hundred kilometers per hour. Although designed as a dune buggy, it actually evolved from a heavy motorcycle and retains much of a motorcycle’s DNA — you can feel it in the cockpit, the instrument cluster, the gear lever and so on.

But the body uses a reverse-three-wheel layout, with an F1-like aggressive front end and interior/exterior trims dominated by red, so it’s easy to forget its true lineage. Bowen said the peak output is about 190 horsepower — not quite race-car level yet, but in many ways it can serve like a racer. Look at the weight: it’s half a ton, not far off a real racer’s six or seven hundred kilograms.

After explaining all that, he hopped on for a quick demo, then tossed the keys to Wang Bo and said, “It’s yours, Boss.”

Wang Bo beamed. “Is this the present you were talking about on the phone?”

Bowen fished a backpack out from the rear of the vehicle. “Of course not — my real gift is in here. Look, my mom made these sausages herself — you’ll love the taste.”

Wang Bo tucked his mouth. “I’d like it more without the car.”

Bowen laughed. “You took me seriously, Boss? How could I possibly give you a single Texas sausage as a gift?”

Wang Bo laughed too. “I knew it…”

“At least two!” Bowen then miraculously produced another dried sausage.

Wang Bo couldn’t laugh anymore.

Seeing this, Bowen laughed louder and louder. “Okay, okay, I’m not joking. Boss, you really become less funny when I’m not around.”

“This car is my gift to you. After I landed in New York I saw someone driving one of these and I knew you’d like it, so I ordered one to be delivered to Christchurch. I drove it straight here after I got off the plane!”

Wang Bo patted his shoulder in satisfaction. “Boss cares for you — not in vain. You’ve got a good heart, kid.”

Kidd dashed over, snatched the keys and cried with excitement, “This thing is gorgeous — I want to feel its power!”

Wang Bo snapped, “No one’s getting in before I do. If anyone does, I’ll beat him so badly he’ll never dare drive again!”

The commander leapt up shouting, “Ah, hit him! Hit the commissar!”

Eva signaled the little parrot to return and scolded lightly, “What does that have to do with the commissar? Be nicer to the commissar from now on, okay?”

The little parrot was indignant: “Ah, hit the commissar! Ah, commissar’s bad!”

Kidd’s face fell. Wang Bo wrested the keys back and happily handed them to Eva. “Here, darling, you go first and enjoy it.”

Atulu, standing by to watch the fun, couldn’t help but chime in, “Boss — you clearly said whoever gets in first, you’ll beat them. You’ll make them never drive again.”

“I said ‘he,’ not ‘she’ — only works on men.” Wang Bo made a hair-splitting justification, then thought to himself how clever he’d been.

Eva waved and smiled. “I need to keep an eye on the commander; I can’t let him say any more dirty words. Go on, have fun. Honestly, I’m not that interested in cars — they’re just tools for getting around, right?”

Kidd objected: “This is not just a tool.”

Eva replied, “Of course not — it can’t even be a commuter car. Who would drive this to work or go shopping?”

Since Eva didn’t want to try it, Wang Bo decided to indulge himself first.

Bowen warned, “It’s not great to drive on regular roads — it’s a bit dangerous, the chassis is too low. But on the beach you’ll see how amazing it is.”

The vehicle uses a proximity electromagnetic key; when you give the key fob a snap upward it magnetically attaches and the car can be started.

Wang Bo released the clutch, stepped on the gas and shifted gears in one smooth motion. The machine roared to life and slowly accelerated. The chassis really was low — very different from ordinary dune buggies, which typically have large wheels and a high center of gravity. This one sat very low.

On the road he began to push it and a brand-new sensation arrived. He hadn’t driven many sports cars; although Aston Martins were common, his old car was more of a sedan with a higher chassis. This machine behaved like a sports car.

One advantage of the low seating is that you feel like you’re sitting on the ground; when the vehicle rockets forward it feels like you’re riding the wind — incredibly thrilling. Before he knew it, Wang Bo had pushed the speed up to 120 km/h.

In less than four kilometers he’d already reached the lakefront, then turned the wheel hard and stomped the throttle, plunging into the sand again. The thick wheels gripped the ground strongly, throwing up clouds of sand to either side as they spun with force — a commanding sight.

Lots of people on the beach were preparing for evening barbecues; when the Plains Tyrannosaurus (the vehicle’s nickname) rolled up, they all cheered excitedly. People lounging in their tents were drawn out by the commotion, so Wang Bo began to slow down — the lakefront area was small and with so many people around, speeding could be dangerous.

After a lap on the flat sand he steered onto the pier. Dozens of fishing-eagle huts dotted the water; the vehicle thundered up onto the pier and a few eagles that had been resting there quickly plunged into the water and scrambled into their huts to hide.

Wang Bo laughed heartily at the sight, but some of the eagles were more unruly: one swooped down and, with a flourish, pooped on the hood. That made him wince — a new car, and already being fouled. He jumped down and waved his hands to shoo the birds away.

But the eagles clearly liked him; after he waved they flew over again, and some even plunged into the water and surfaced with small fish to offer him. Wang Bo was equal parts amused and exasperated.

One eagle even flew up holding a big crab in its beak — the crab was the size of Wang Bo’s palm and must have weighed at least a jin (about a pound). The crab was furious, snapping its claws, but the eagle, skilled at catching fish and shrimp, had cleverly grabbed it from behind so the crab’s pincers couldn’t hurt it.

Wang Bo took the crab from the eagle’s beak, smiling. It felt heavy and plump in his hand — much meatier than the crabs they caught back home in early spring. Seeing how fat the crab was, an idea popped into his head: tonight he’d throw a welcome dinner for Bowen. Why not use the lake’s seafood?