As former members of the Porsche Group tell...
May 3, 2016
The work of the National Police was very diverse. From the conversations we had with former members of the 'Porsche Group', we have made a small selection.
A police Porsche, something for you?
A week before the last Porsche of the National Police finally disappeared from our national highways, we wanted to do one more interview for the newspaper with the crew of one of those impressive white and orange 911s with blue flashing light. At the “headquarters” near the A12 in Driebergen of what was then still called the AVD (Algemene Verkeers Dienst), a national police officer tracked down the car for us over the “radio.” The crew were more than happy to talk to us and would wait for us in a parking area on the A27 in the direction of Hilversum, just before the exit to Bilthoven. We found them quickly. “If you give me a hundred grand, we will buy this car together and start for ourselves,” was the not very subtle opening line of the two youthful-looking national police officers as we greeted each other. They clearly had little desire to swap their service car for a civilian vehicle like the Volvo station wagon that had been purchased as its replacement. The remark was meant as a joke, but it had a serious undertone: it expressed sadness at the loss of their beloved Porsche and sadness at the loss of a status symbol. Driving a Porsche for your job: apart from professional racing drivers, only selected members of the Porsche group of the AVD in Driebergen did that.
Sleep?
Working for the Porsche group had both advantages and disadvantages. Driving a German sports car not only gave a huge kick to the team that took it out on the road every day (and part of the night), but it also gave you status at birthday parties and even among your less fortunate colleagues who did desk work. And during working hours you were also the terror of blundering road users on the national highways. But you also earned great respect. Not only because everyone knew that trying to get away from such a Porsche crew after a violation was pointless, but also because of the appearance: a menacing white and orange Porsche, manned by imposing men with matching helmets, a loudspeaker on the back and a flashing light. One of the downsides of this special work was that after setting off from Driebergen you would head deep into the country and sometimes had to stay overnight. You were simply too far from home to drive back. For those overnight stays the AVD had reserved rooms at a number of Van der Valk motels throughout the Netherlands. There the tired policemen could lay their weary heads to rest at the end of the working day. At night there was (fortunately?) no surveillance. Our former neighbor was a policeman and one of the lucky ones who, as part of his job, was allowed to drive a service Porsche every day. Besides being a good policeman, he was also an excellent driver. His problem, however, was that he found it very hard to fall asleep in any bed other than his own. And because the national police were also frugal with our tax money, the policemen, to make matters worse, always had to share a room. He would sometimes say that for him this turned into a complete disaster every single night. On the first day of his shift he was still sharp enough, but after such a sleepless night the next day was a bit more difficult. And his colleague had also snored all night long...
The broken art object
It must have been in the fall of 1980 when we were refueling the Porsche along the A2. With loud honking, a truck drove onto the premises. The driver got out of his cab and quickly walked toward us. He shouted to us that he had overtaken a car from which shots were being fired. While he was telling us this, the car in question drove along the highway past the gas station and we saw the driver stick his hand out of the left door window and we heard a gunshot.
We got into our car, immediately notified the control center, and started the pursuit. We received air support right away, because near Meerkerk one of the Cessnas from the Aviation Service was flying there. The crew had heard our report. In the meantime we had the car in question in sight, which drove onto highway 27 near Vianen, and we indeed saw that he regularly stuck his left arm out of the window and then we also saw a small puff of smoke. We were not allowed to take any action yet while waiting for backup, and the plane continued to follow. A little later, the crew of the plane reported that the car drove into the parking area of a gas station.
They saw the driver get out and go into the station. Waiting for assistance no longer made sense and we decided to intervene. We walked up to the car and saw that there was a woman inside, with about six small firearms on her lap. We also saw that she was loading magazines with ammunition. With our guns drawn, we ordered the woman to drop everything and get out of the car. Before the woman realized what was happening, she was standing next to the car. At that same moment a man approached us, who turned out to be the driver of the car, holding a cup of coffee in each hand. The woman protested vehemently, saying we were "disturbing a work of art that the driver and she were creating."
A brief inspection showed that they were alarm pistols. In the meantime the necessary backup arrived and, together with the local police, we took the whole lot to the national police station in Meerkerk for further investigation. At the station it became clear that both individuals were creating an art object for the municipality of Breda. They were laying a “sound vibration line” from Dam Square in Amsterdam to the center of Breda. The driver and the woman had departed from Amsterdam and, along the route, were striking an object against lampposts and the like so that sound vibrations were produced. On the highway the driver created a sound vibration every 500 meters by firing a pistol shot. The woman made sure the pistols were always loaded in time and oversaw the artist to ensure that the project, which was funded by the municipality of Breda, was carried out properly.
The woman in question was a civil servant of the municipality of Breda, responsible for art affairs, and she was very angry with us because we had disrupted the project. She said we had not heard the last of it.
An official report was drawn up for the alarm pistols and for endangering traffic. We have not heard anything more about it since. A few weeks later, the weekly magazine Nieuwe Revue repeated the project with the artist, so that a sound line between Amsterdam and Breda was created after all.
Mirror, mirror on the wall?
We pass our 911 on the A2 between Abcoude and Vinkeveen by a striking orange BMW with a dark skinned man with dreadlocks behind the wheel. Next to him there is also a dark skinned man with an afro. The men nudge each other and point at our Porsche. That happens more often, but there is no reason to check the BMW. At first glance everything is in order. We also do not want to discriminate and let them drive on. They pull into the service station at Breukelen and we take the Breukelen exit. By merging on and off you can fairly inconspicuously merge back into the traffic and see whether in the new little cluster of traffic that then comes by there is a potential offender. It is and remains quiet today. Actually this is the situation you aim for, but still!
As we approach Nieuwegein again, we catch up with the orange BMW. They probably drove straight on from the gas station. We still take a look inside and I see that the man with the afro is now behind the wheel and the guy with the dreadlocks is next to him. Now it is interesting to check them. The one with the dreads probably does not have a drivers license. After they saw us, they decided to play it safe and switched drivers. Near Vianen we signal them to stop. I first ask the passenger with the dreadlocks if I can see his drivers license. He does not have one: "I did not drive either, officer, I am just sitting next to him." I jog his memory a bit and in the end he admits that he drove without a valid drivers license. I write down his details and tell him he will be cited. He agrees to this. Then I routinely ask the driver for his drivers license. "I do not have a drivers license either," he says! That does not happen very often: in one check, two drivers without a license! We have no choice but to take the car to the station in Driebergen and leave it there until someone shows up who does have a license. It is Sunday and we have no way at all to check the identity of the two. To build in some certainty, I ask if I can take a photo of this remarkable duo. They agree to that as well and we then take them to the train.
A few weeks later we see a car with a faded license plate driving on the A2 near Vianen. License plates always catch our attention. You can ‘read’ a lot from them. Is it fake or, in this case, why is it so hard to read? The car is pulled over for a closer inspection and, to my surprise, we see that ‘rasta’ is behind the wheel. This time he is alone. Could he already have a driving license? I ask him for his license and he immediately produces a Surinamese driving license. Apart from the fact that, as a Dutch resident, he is required to have a Dutch driving license, the license has been issued to another person. The details he gave recently had turned out to be correct. So this license is clearly not his. I let him know that I still remember him from our last encounter. He keeps insisting, however, that this is the first time he has seen me. For the record I ask him his name. He gives exactly the name that is on the license. So now he is giving a false name, or he did so back then. Reason enough to arrest the man. We take him with us to the station in Driebergen. I show him the photos I took of him at the time. When I ask him who this man is who looks exactly like him, he says that he has seen this man before. Then he is asked: “and when was that?” The answer: “Every morning in the mirror!”
Dick Schornagel and others
Editorial Louwman Museum
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