SQUINTER’S got a lot of sympathy for the PSNI in relation to the Stewartstown Road drag race debacle on Monday evening.
In case you missed it, a large number of souped-up cars descended on the road in a tyre-squealing tribute to a member of the souped-up car fraternity who passed away recently.
The police were clearly taken completely unawares by the event, for how else can we account for the fact that the road was totally handed over to handbrake-turning, wheel-smoking petrolheads and bike and scooter smicks who turned up to watch the fun and hope an opportunity to cause mischief presented itself at some stage?
Why were the police taken unawares? Hard to say, really. Squinter’s best guess is that since it was the May Day bank holiday the PSNI intelligence wonks were likely to have been in the caravan in Millisle for the long weekend. And yer ordinary Trevor wouldn’t have the training or the nous to interpret the open invites to the event that were plastered all over social media on Saturday and Sunday.
‘Yo, lads. Get yourselves up to the Stewartstown Road on Monday night so we can close the place down while performing life-threatening illegal manoeuvres on a main thoroughfare in broad daylight.’
And even if the police had been aware of the event, what were they supposed to do? The options for preventing a convoy of souped-up motors converging on a named site were few and problematic. True, they could have put vehicle checkpoints in place and turned away anyone suspected of being on their way to hijack a road and endanger the lives of the local community. But since there are at least four routes of access to the affected part of the Stewartstown Road, that would have meant putting four VCPs in situ with a commitment of at least four vehicles and 16 officers. And in these days of squeezed resources, that’s a commitment that Chief Constable Jon Boutcher was just not able to make. Fair enough, when things went tits-up later on Jon had to deploy the riot squad, multiple armoured vehicles and the kitchen sink to quell the chaos, but how was he to know that handing over a main road to boy racers, scramblers and scooters on a sunny Bank Holiday evening would present a problem?
And if VCPs had been put in place, let’s put on the 20-20 hindsight glasses that of course Jon never has the luxury of access to and ask ourselves how the hell an ordinary Trevor is supposed to know who to look for? Imagine the scene: You’re on duty at a checkpoint at the McKinstry roundabout or the Michael Ferguson roundabout at either end of the Stewartstown Road. Or even at Dunmurry or on the Colinglen Road. And from the line of traffic approaching you, you’re expected to pick out potential law-breakers when we live in a day and age when cars are so confusingly similar.
– Evening, sir. Is this your car?
– It is, officer.
– Where are you off to, may I ask?
– Just out for a drive.
– Interesting car you’re driving. Kinda close to the road, isn’t it?
– Two inches, officer. One if I hit the low-stick.
– Vauxhall, is it?
– Yep, 1992 Cavalier.
– What colour would you say that was?
– Looks purple, but the spray guy told me it’s eggshell mauve. With raspberry trim.
– Noisy fecker, isn’t it?
– Thanks. Modified muffler, V8 super duty Chevvie engine.
– Out of interest, why are you lying down?
– I’m not lying down, officer. (Laughs.) This is a Cobra Nogaro Clubsport bucketseat with perforated aluminium layback.
– Wow. And that’s some seatbelt you have on.
– This isn’t a seatbelt, silly. (Laughs again.) This is a four-point Bull Boost quick-release harness.
– Big wheels too.
– 32-inch alloy Ceika rims, Kumho Ecsta Sport low-profile tyres.
– What’s that banging and spitting noise the car made when you drove up?
– Modified engine control unit. I downshift and the petrol keeps going. Then it explodes in the hot exhaust.
– What does that do?
– Nothing. It just sounds class.
– Just out for a drive, you say?
– Yip, lovely evening, isn’t it?
– And not on your way to that illegal souped-up car meet down the road a bit.
– As if.
– Thanks, sir, off you go.
