Chapter 55 Car

The result of borrowing the car from Fuller was that the car was in the garage at home and the key was also in the car, so I had to go back and get it myself.

After chatting with Full for a few more words, Yorks hung up the phone, looked at the bridge that had appeared in front of him, then drove to the side road and followed the path under the bridge.

The bridge is small and the area under the bridge is not very large, but York's purpose is simple, as long as there is a place to park.

He parked the car casually in a deserted lot full of garbage. After taking a quick look and seeing that there was no one there, York did nothing. He just picked up the things he needed and pushed the door open without even taking the keys, getting out of the car and walking slowly towards the back of the car.

He doesn't want this car anymore.

After all, he just bought this Volkswagen Bora in the second-hand market with cash. It was very cheap, only two thousand US dollars.

He opened the trunk, picked up the modified lightweight oil that was deliberately left inside, opened the plug and poured it on the car.

Taking out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, Yorks took out a cigarette, lit it with the lighter, took a deep breath into his lungs with nostalgia, and then flicked it into the Volkswagen Bora that was already covered with light oil.

The cigarette butts touched and sparks flew out, and with a puff, the Volkswagen Bora burst into flames, with flames jumping and spinning on the car body, like a wild dancer engulfing the Volkswagen Bora.

York watched quietly for a few seconds, threw the cigarette and lighter into the fire, turned around and left, walked onto the path, and walked towards the nearby neighborhood. Not long after, he hailed a taxi on the street and headed towards Beverly Hills.

The whole process ended just like that. No one would know that he had ever driven this car. Even if they knew, without evidence, it was the same as if he had never driven it. This country is just that simple.

……

I don’t know if it was to help him out, but the taxi driver was very talkative.

"Hey, man, you know what, whoever becomes president should do this, you know what I mean?"

While the driver was talking, York, who was sitting in the back seat, sighed inwardly and looked up at the rearview mirror. Sure enough, the driver was peeking at him through the mirror.

"I understand. It's so smoky outside, it's terrible!" York took a look at the prosperous scenery outside the car window and confirmed that he was about to reach his destination.

The driver sighed, "Brother, you really know me too well! It's a pity that they seem to never go away. You should understand what I mean. I think the president should take care of this problem and flush away all the dirty stuff."

York just smiled and didn't say anything. He looked at the bustling neighborhood outside the car window in silence.

In fact, this world is all about black and white. Who would have known that he, a lapd, had just sniped someone a few hours ago.

The taxi slowly drove into the avenue outside Beverly Hills. Here the driver became inexplicably quiet, only glancing at him from time to time.

"Hey, man, do you really live here?" The driver looked back at York after parking the car at the destination.

"No, I don't live here." Yorks answered simply, took out his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a few banknotes and handed them over, then got out of the car, but paused to close the door under the driver's gaze.

"Honestly, I support what you just said. No matter who becomes president, what he should and must do is to flush away all the dirty things." York looked at him.

The driver blinked and smiled, as if he finally felt shy because someone agreed with him.

York gave a thumbs up to show his support, then closed the car door and walked slowly towards the home where he had lived for more than 20 years.

The driver sat in the taxi's seat and watched for a long time until York's figure disappeared before driving away.
-
Sheffield Manor.

Just as Yorks reached the door, the huge iron gate opened automatically, and then someone drove over in a small car, similar to the ones used on a golf course.

Yorks was not surprised. In fact, the security of Sheffield Manor was very strict. Unlike outside, there were hidden cameras everywhere. Once anyone entered the territory of Sheffield Manor, they would basically be seen by the security personnel on duty that day.

The person who drove over was Curtis again. He inherited his father's business and became the butler of Sheffield Manor.

The old butler, Old Curtis, has already started lurking behind the scenes with the old man.

Sitting in the car, York looked at Curtis who was driving.

"Curtis, is anyone else home?"

Curtis, a middle-aged man in a uniform, pursed his lips.

"Except Mr. Michael, the others are not back yet."

York raised an eyebrow.

Curtis seemed to know what he was thinking: "Miss Lillian has gone shopping with Mrs. Valerie before. Well, it seems that she is going to buy clothes for school."

"Okay." York said calmly.

"Take me to the garage, Curtis."

"Okay." Curtis said, and the small car that looked like a sightseeing car drove towards the garage under his control.

Not long after, York waved his hand, and with Curtis bowing in greeting, he walked into the huge underground garage.

How to judge a family's economic level? Some people say it is the car, because a car is a very obvious thing. In the eyes of some people, a car can sometimes represent a symbol of status and wealth.

York agrees with this view to a certain extent.

There are people with a net worth of tens of millions who drive a car worth hundreds of thousands, but they are pitifully rare. For most people, their income is still linked to the grade of the car they drive.

Going out is all about face, allowing people to see your superficial level directly, and no one cares what you are like inside.

Therefore, most of the business people will drive higher-end cars. This is because even if the interior is not good, they still have to dress it up.

Of course, the car is only one of the criteria for judgment. We still need to look at the overall situation when judging a person, because many people like to play the pig and eat the tiger, just like he drives an F150 Raptor that can fall into the dust if placed here. Who can imagine that he is actually a member of the Sheffield family?

There is no car that can be called cheap in the garage in front of me.

Yorks skipped over the so-called luxury cars such as the Ferrari LaFerrari Aperta, the Mercedes-Benz SLR722 version of McLaren, and the Aston Martin Valkyrie.

He still chose the car he wanted to drive, the Bugatti Sentodic, because he hadn't driven one yet.

I walked over to take a look and saw that the key was indeed there.

"This guy probably hasn't driven it many times, right?" Thinking of his younger brother, Ful, York shook his head.

It seems that the Sheffield family likes to play the pig and eat the tiger, like Ver goes to college and Lillian goes to elementary school, and it seems that many people don't know their identity.

This is what makes the Sheffield family unique. For example, which family would let their children do such a dangerous job as a patrolman?
This is also what he likes about the Sheffield family, respecting your choices and you as a person.

Of course, it is said that his father, Chief Superintendent Russell, also started as a patrolman, then became a detective, then a sheriff, etc. He experienced many dangers and solved many major cases.
(End of this chapter)