Gleaming red fire truck with running boards, hand winch, sparkling chromed front lights... Probably circa 1950s or earlier. This particular antique is parked in the courtyard of a hotel ball room in Desaru.
I stood there gawking...
Back in my "kampung" transportation was crude whilst I was learning the ropes.
I rode many a times on bullock carts - 2nd major form of transportation. Sometimes either one or two of the beast of burden would be hitched to a two wheeled timber cart. At first, timber wheels shod with "zinc shoes". Later stiff rubber soles. Much, much later rubber tyres.
The cart designs were something else to behold! Some with benches on the outside "slung" from the side walls. The most common are devoid of any except for the driver.
The timber floors were an inch thick. It meets a 1 feet or so high wall (where they hang the benches from - either outside or inside). Above these are open (window) timber frames that holds the "attap" (thatched roof).
The attap roof design too were many - depending on the owner. Some simple - barn type - others "minangkabau" (shaped like the horns of a bull). Some of the gable end walls were adorned with shiny studs, others painted with sceneries.
My kampung road was aptly called "Jalan Kereta Lembu" or bullock cart road. The tyre track would divide this single lane "highway" into sections. Cow grass, track, more cow grass, track and more cow grass. Cow grass - of course! (I don't think I need to explain the obvious, right?)
Bicycles - 2nd most important form of transportation! All shapes and sizes. Both my knees bore scars to this day. One such scar is huge. I dare not remove the pus infected wound then thus leaving behind a piece of cloth measuring 1 inch by 1/2 inch. It is "leathery" now.
I learned to ride on huge monsters. It could, as we normally would, carry 6. One on the front wheel "drum" (the thing that juts out and holds the spokes) holding on for dear life to the handle bar whilst making sure his toes are not mangled by the spokes, one on the handle bar making sure that he doesn't obstruct the "driver's" view, one on the pillion bar, the driver seated on the driver's seat, one on the pillion and the last person on the rear wheel drums clinging to the one on the rear seat.
Girls? Some rode like boys but others position themselves so demurely that they seemed to ride "side saddle". I can't recall when the ladies bikes were first introduced. Ladies are expected to sit side saddle if and when they are ferried around.
My grandfather gave me his pride and joy - Raleigh. It was dark green, smaller than the monsters with a leather pouch (for his pipe and tobacco - he claimed), similar green coloured pneumatic pump, but no pillion rider. It really was a gentlemen's bike. We dote on this manly apparatus daily, washing, drying and polishing it with real TLC.
It was hung from the ceiling joist upon his demise. Where is it now? The last I saw it was a few days before I left home - a very long time ago.
We cycled up and down aimlessly dodging potholes and the ever present mounds of either fresh dung or sun-dried cow dungs.
Schooling started too soon for me. Two forms of transportation were available. (Two different schools occupied the same premises. Each school took turns - one morning, the other in the afternoon.) If mine was in the morning, my only would uncle drive me in his pride and joy: Mazda. I believe it was the precursor to a Mazda 323. I actually learned to "drive" with this car - sort of. I get to steer once a while and also change gears on cue.
After school I was picked up by this particular trishaw - Pak Cik (uncle) Seman. He lived in our "kampung". Every other year, my school starts in the afternoon. He will send me to and pick me up from school in the evenings come rain or shine. At times, he will let me pedal the trishaw - 3 miles from home to school. He serviced my family till I was in Form 3.
My dad had a black Vauxhall. Huge monster - with running boards. I don't remember much of it except from the now sepia tone photographs depicting the now strange scenes of Penang and Singapore. It ferried my mom, dad, uncle, grandparents, grandmother's two sisters me and my only sister - nine bodies
Then dad bought himself a Norton whilst my grandfather bought a Vespa scooter. My only memory of the Norton was me hugging the huge petrol tank. But the Vespa? Fond memories of my sister and me standing on the floor board riding up and down the track. After every evening trip, we would wash it, polish it with TLC. He had one accident only - he missed the turn from Jalan Sulaiman into Jalan Daud and found himself in the monsoon drain unscathed; except for his pride. Before his time was up, he bequeathed it to me. The last I saw it was, like the Raleigh, before I left home. I was told that it was dumped into a pond by dissatisfied "tenants".
Next was a Grey Morris Minor 1100cc. Plate number JC 1968. Dad bought in 1962 from Wearnes Brothers in Malacca. Up north to Penang and Kelantan as well as down south to Mersing and Singapore. I don't remember it ever being hot until 1995 when I used it for a while to ferry me to KLIA. I changed the engine, added air conditioning, refurbished the interior, and painted it white
In the earlier formative years, all four of us sat in front. I sat myself on a folded pillow over the hand brake. My duty would be to hit the high beam when needed. It was smack in the middle beside the clutch. My leg was long enough to reach. When it was time to sleep, a rolled mattress - a "permanent" fixture on the floor - formed enough room for two to sleep on.
Accidents? Though dad drove it for eons to Sagil (4 years), Lenga (6 years) or Sarang Buaya (5 years) or Air Hitam (10 years) daily, KL every year and other places it never suffered, not even a dent. Come my turn, a SJ bus rammed its left rear mangling only the "steel" curved bumper. They coughed up RM500 after 3 years. I suffered a whip lash. Just before KLIA I used it to ferry chicken and beef with bushels of lemon grass in the early morning and in the evening sent thousands of "sate".
My first and only bicycle was a gift - I scored well for my Lower Certificate of Education. It was a Red Ladies Raleigh. I learned to do wheelies at the expanse of the "absorbers". It was never designed to do that until much, much later with the advent of spring shock absorbers for bicycles. Except for rainy days, it was my mode of transport. Tanjung every afternoon after Ugama School, twice a week to Hospital for tuition - Ou Yang brothers, dates with either of my best friends MHJ to Cathay and Rex, and the late SK to Tanjung. Dates with the opposite sex came during the cramming period for MCE. It was my way of purportedly managing stress.
I was envious of bikes with stretched handle bars or lowered back tyres, stretched wish bone forks...a poor man's Harley Davidson...choppers, they were called. The last I rode on mine was to the graveyard clutching my Malaysian Certificate of Education temporary slip.
It is still here with rusted rims, torn saddle...untouched for more than 36 years.
Next was a green Kawasaki KE125. I was 16 then. A provisional license was what I had and entitled to. Plate number was GDP79N. I rode to daily to Banbury, once to Stratford-on-Avon to watch a play in Shakespear's birthplace, London and Reading to buy provisions only available from Chinese shops like herbs, "tofu" (soya bean curd), "belachan" (prawn paste).... After school, I would play on dirt tracks in Headingly or Cowly. Snow was tricky but a few scrapes were my proud markings. Not the much dreamt of leather jacket but a cheap denim jacket over cardigan, shirt and long johns to keep the cold at bay. Full faced helmet in green completed the ensemble.
On my jacket, I painted in oil a skull at the back. A stylised skull was my calling card in my early essays, paintings - two "o's" over a triangle (sometimes Greek "delta") above Roman numerals for three. My jeans had white stripes painted on. I was the only foreigner with a bike. I dreamt of owning a Honda 500cc Trail for the purpose of riding home. Picture this, a lone 5 foot 3 inch, 52 kg Malay riding on a Honda 500 in denim with leather satchels as luggage riding all the way from Oxford to Muar...
Unrealistic dreams, and vanity were my downfall...
I had it for two years before it was stolen by my under aged neighbour who sold it off. As a result, I appeared, for the first time before a magistrate. To this day, I occasionally had nightmares...on this, the love of my life then, the one and only bike ever. I lost 500 quid for this second hand bike since it wasn't insured for fire and theft.
Next was a RM2000 second hand Morris Mini. Plate Number BAA897. It was painted maroon red with black stripes. The floor board was riddled with holes which I later welded and waterproofed. A small fan was all I had to battle the KL heat. The furthest was to Pontian. It was my first SOHO or perhaps SOCO (small office, car office). Books requiring translations, reference books on terminology from MABIM, reams of papers assorted pens in the very narrow boot. Half inch thick plywood would be my table when placed on the steering wheel.
Many a time I had to push start by myself. What a sight! With the driver's door ajar, one hand on the wheel pushing and another on the pillar pulling, I would run then jump in hitting the clutch and engaging second gear once enough momentum is achieved.
A memorable incident on April Fool's Day. As usual, I dorn my work clothes and headed for my car parked in front of a one bedroomed walk up flat. It was gone. I was frantic. Went up and down the hostel, to the dining hall... It was nowhere to be seen. One of the graduate student finally owned up. It was dragged and pushed to the community dust bin area hidden from view.
Next was a "signal red" Nissan Sunny 130Y as an addition to the stable. The bigger bonnet held the same messy papers, books... Jumping from one car to the other made a difference. It was like coming out of an oven and into a freezer. By the way, my first dent was established on the first day I picked it up from the showroom. We were supposed to celebrate the first brand new car. I decided not to drive it. So I parked in a family friend's car workshop. I drove it straight into the pit. Two wheels hanging over the pit! Months later another accident. I backed into a lorry in Kajang. Half the bonnet needed a face lift.
The Mini had to go. With the proceeds of 1K, I paid a deposit for a 1.5 litre Proton Knight in black. It went as far north as Langkawi and south to Kota Tinggi. To the east, Kuantan. My eldest son occasionally doused the back seat with his. Again, it was my SOHO too, but with a difference. A laptop of sorts. It had no batteries. Occasionally, I would drop the back seat and sleep full length (diagonally of course). Plate Number 8970.
The Sunny was sold off and the Knight was sent to Muar for two years. A battered second hand Fort Cortina L for 200 quid came next. It went from Bristol to as far as the Lake District, Liverpool and Blackpool in the north. Frequent trips to Huddersfield. But the furthest was Europe. Bristol to Cambridge, Hook of Holland, Floriade, Belgium, near Stuttgart, Innsbruck, down to Venice, back up to Zurich then to Disneyland before the last leg at Lands End (or was it Brighton?).
A number of times, I had to solicit help from other drivers and the AA to start the car up. Usually in the mornings. One incident which I wrote elsewhere involved driving on the wrong side of the road - somewhere in Austria. All along the European trip we stocked up the boot with Maggi Mee, rice to cook and peanuts in sambal.
It was sold off for 200 quid to Ms. Mamoyane Mohale. Not bad huh!
The Knight had a new partner soon after; a red basic Kancil - plate number 8970. It was the first batch I think. I used it extensively as a work horse. To KLIA daily for 6 months, Tronoh and back twice a week for a year. Finally, grazing and resting here in JB. The Kancil met a grotesque accident in Tronoh. I did a legal u-turn, first stopping on the grass verge before executing a u-turn. A motorcycle from behind rammed into the back door soon after I passed the dividing lines. I cradled this helmetless 19 year old student now toothless on my lap whilst pleading for passers by to stop. I spent an hour in the police station in my blood soiled garment. I cannot forget the smell of blood. I appeared 5 years later in a magistrate court for the insurance hearing. The grown man with his father and lawyer did not get what they wanted.
To this date you will find cement dust, bits of marble and tiles in the boot - testimonies of failed attempt at being a "tiny" contractor.
Not content with a Knight (mid size) and a Kancil (really tiny) I added a Renault Espace, bearing a plate number of 8970. It went far and wide. Alor Star to the North, Trengganu to the East and Singapore to the South. It was sheer luxury and spacious. I touched 160 more often then not. But it was costly to maintain. Only one accident though - smashed a dog into smithereens along the highway near Rawang.
My dreams of installing a tv remained as dreams for a long time. To while away the long trips we had two notebooks plugged into the cigarette lighter. Both notebooks suffered. 20k for both notebooks lasted 2 years of heavy usage in the van as video players and SOCO.
The Knight was converted into an auto by a Muar workshop. The Espace was the reason why. Jumping from the auto Espace into manual Knight or Kancil poses problems with the left leg.
Not content with three in the stable, I added a gold auto 1.5 Proton Satria to reveal my hidden "sporty" nature. Plate Number 8970. However, it wasn't a stallion that could deliver that macho need for speed. It was left to my eldest son for his daily routine and is still using it today.
In Pakistan I was allocated a driver for a dual system brand new Suzuki wagon. A few trips up Mangla, and Peshawar in this family car. It wasn't comfortable but useful. Later a second hand truck bed (was it a Hilux?) with a purpotedly armed driver was at my disposal. Mangla Hills in Snow, Murree Hills, and the now forgotten housing development near the Suad Valley were the places we went. It ferried my youngest born from the Hospital on Eid-ul-Qurbani. This was the same vehicle that sent me and mine on my last, tearful day in Islamabad.
In Doha I was allocated a virginal Honda Civic. It was in this car that I drove on that fateful day to Messaid...ending in incarceration for 36 hours.
Only the trusted Kancil and Satria remained to this date. Of course JC1968 is still purring back in Muar cocooned in a cotton blanket. Once a week, she purred for my 83 year old father who smiles from ear to ear everytime she turns at the flick of the modified Toyota switch.
Current stable, for a mid-level income earner, includes...not SLK or S Class or E Class but a 7 year old grey 1.3 litre Proton Saga now clocking in at 220k kilometers and a newly commissioned pride and joy a cavernous 2.5 litre Starship Enterprise...but without warp drive!!!
Dedicated to SOHOians everywhere.
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