Road Trip

Roadtrips are the stuff of legend. From adolescent teenage girls bundling into creaky jalopies for the perennial search for identity to frustrated, gun-toting housewives picking up a luscious Brad Pitt for the ride to matured gentlemen cramming into a monster truck aiming for that final fling, we have seen them all dramatized on the Hollywood big screen.

Roadtrips have always been a general staple in my life, from the quarter-yearly pilgrimages with my family up north to the motherhouse to the more recent university escapades with my intrepid compatriots in my trusty ( and much-missed ) Kancil. However of late - especially after falling into the hectic working life of a lowly salaryman ( yes, a common gripe for me ), roadtrips have become increasingly rare for me apart from the inescapable new year homecomings. Thankfully the slick ultra-modern highways we have now are a far cry from the meandering back lanes and heavily-navigated trunk roads favoured by my father many eons ago - although regular roadworks on the ailing highways these days actually narrow the difference.

So when Jaunty Jared suggested a slow drive up to Ipoh for a day-trip to canoodle with his loved one Lanky Lex, I called shotgun. Nothing like another trip in his Jumping Jalopy. Which left Zany Zinedine with the entire backseat, suitable for his lanky multi-poseable ( and periodically disjointed ) limbs. As usual for roadtrips, lips start to loosen, mouths start to tattle and we start to learn the most unusual facts about our friends.

And about ourselves - like my inexplicable predilection to sing a cappella to the bossa nova at friendly neighbourhood fruit stalls ( these days fitted with karaokes for your convenience ) after a dimsum breakfast.


Seriously. Blame it on the bossa nova...
1) Jared goes bad

Along the drive, Jared regaled us with tales of his naughty exploits from crashing new year parties to rubbing naked bits with swinging studly strangers. Here I was thinking that he was such a sweet innocent soul when our experienced man of action's actually been busy cruising bars picking up men to totter up drunk and horny into anonymous apartments. A couple of days later he met me, repented and turned over a new leaf.

Coincidence? I think not :P See, I am not the maleficent spectre that people think.

2) Jared asks for directions

Regular adage claims that men don't ask for directions. Certainly doesn't fit Jared's profile though. During a brief interval where we drove in increasingly confused circles around Ipoh city, Jared suddenly flipped out at an intersection, wound down his window and yelled out threateningly at an elderly gentleman ten yards away. Zinedine and I were half afraid he'd suddenly draw on the man out of frustration ( possibly kickboxing him into submission ) but fortunately he only stopped for directions.

3) Jared flirts with old ladies

Just when I thought he'd gone off the bend - after driving for so long understand, the man starts waving money in front of an old lady, laughs it off and places it back in his pocket. I didn't know what to think. Of course he later claimed that he dropped the money accidentally without noticing the begging indigent but I started having serious doubts. Raced through dozens of provisional diagnoses. Had the endless drive seriously unhinged the poor man? Was it road sickness? Mind-altering dehydration? Untenable butt cramps? :P Did we need to veer off towards Tanjung Rambutan for an immediate psychiatric evaluation?

4) Some folks don't know nuts about Geography

Not talking about me. Not talking about the driver either ( otherwise we'd have been driving halfway to the East Coast! ). But some folks seem to think that Kuantan is a new development on the west of Malaysia. That Klang is located to the north of the city. Next thing some folks would say that Malacca could be east of Singapore. And they turned Geography into an optional subject for upper secondary. Nuff said, don'tcha think? :P

I am so gonna kena ketuk for that :P

5) Paul is glad he isn't 19

God. To be 19. Sure I might wish I still had that astounding post-adolescent metabolism that ate up late night teh tariks and char kuay teows like zero-calorie air ( and that I resembled the shockingly precocious Zac Efron at that age! ) but I certainly don't miss hideous dorm rooms, grimy showers with unspeakable stains and sweltering walks down endless uni corridors to the class at the other end of the enormous state-wide campus. And does anyone remember horrible inedible campus food?

Still the ( definitely legal ) college boys were hot. And it was nice watching them big boys cavorting in small towels.