Bye bye baby

Have you ever had something that you loved so much, and yet it causes you much more problem than it’s worth? Blow most of your money just to keep it happy and in return, gives you heartache and misery? I’m not talking about girlfriends - I’m talking about cars. (Although I would agree there’s not much difference between the two)

I bought myself a used car a few years after I joined the work force. Tightened my belt, drank cheap beer and ate only when deemed absolutely necessary just to save up for it. It was a proud moment, when I surprised my family by going out with a bike and coming home with a car. Of course, my brother knew it because he was my guarantor. But everyone else was in the dark.
Ahh… I still remembered the smell of my car as I drove it home. Suffocating yet tantalizing. Kinda like cow dung – it stinks, but it gets you high. My car was a Proton Wira aeroback with an ugly metallic dark green paint and a few cigarette burn marks on the seats. There were also some holes on the dashboard as the previous owner installed an LCD display, but the car was mine now and I loved it. Finally, I had my own car, and I could just imagine the chicks I could pick up with it. Hey I was in my early twenties and all I had on my mind then were the opposite sex.

My skill behind the wheel then was fairly poor as I had just gotten my driver’s license a mere few days before. I drove slowly due to that, also because I do not want to accidentally scratch my new old car. But that didn’t last long – both the slow and the scratch part. In about less than a week, I managed to back into a parked motorcycle. Also, my cruising speed doubled as I found that my patience level on the road was significantly reduced. Maybe it’s due to the more comfortable and quiet atmosphere inside the car, as opposed to riding a bike out in the open… or maybe just because I’m a Malaysian driver.
When I was on a bike, I used to curse car drivers. How they ignore us motorcyclists and always expect us to give way to them. Now that I am driving a car, I curse the motorcyclists. They make turns as and when they wish. Cutting in and out of traffic as if weaving through an obstacle course. AND especially for going slow and blocking my way. Yes, MY way. But I do realize something I still do the same now as when I did then on a bike – I curse bus, truck and lorry drivers. Those dumb asses.

Back to my car. It was running just fine through the years, until suddenly one fine day it over heated. It costs me six hundred bucks to get it fixed. After that incident, somehow a chain reaction of boo-boos happened. Every month, like clock work, just as soon as I get my pay check, something would require fixing. First it was my absorbers. Then my air conditioning unit. Then the brakes. It was never ending. On the months where nothing broke, it was due time to change something else like my timing belt or my batteries. Overall, my car was costing me a small fortune. A fortune I could have spent boozing.

On top of that, there were some loose connections in my car’s wiring. How did that happened? I went to one of those accessories shop and installed a new alarm system. After that from time to time my car would lose its connection to the batteries. The power window would not work. My indicators would not work. My air conditioning unit would not work. Imagine sitting in a metal box on a hot day in a traffic jam with no air-conditioning and you can’t roll down your windows. Isn’t that what they used to do to torture POWs? I had to open my door whenever possible just to let the hot air out and fresh traffic fumes in. I really looked like a schmuck.

I took my car to my usual work shop but after an hour’s check, the mechanic told me it was some wiring issues due to the new alarm system and advised me to go back to the accessories shop that installed it. So I brought my car to the accessories shop and there they told me, I should go to a work shop to check on my wiring. WTF? As I drove home swearing, I gave a few angry kicks at the fuse box area (driver’s side, to the top right) and suddenly, everything works. From that day, each time my “power problems” occurred, I would be kicking my car to rectify it. Kinda looks like a kid throwing a tantrum actually. This is not an easy feat, as I need to use my right leg to do the kicking, and that’s the same leg that is supposed to be stepping on the fuel paddle.

Finally, one day I decided to do some calculations to see the feasibility of getting a new car. The sudden soberness was due to my lack of funds for alcohol as all my money was going to my car. I checked and found that a Toyota Vios is right within my budget range. The exterior was nice. A subcompact with a cute front, and a short ass. But when I saw the interior, I was shocked. It has a stupid center console. Why the hell do I want other people to see my instruments? Driving a Vios would make me feel like a chauffer. My other option was the Honda City. Its interior was fabulous, but unfortunately, I didn’t like the exterior nor the price. Well, mostly the price.


Center console. I bet the reason for it is so that it would be easier for the manufacturer to swap between left and right hand drive. Those lazy mofos.

Anyway, I am now faced with a question. Vios or City. When in doubt, ask the chicks. It might sound crazy to you, but I always felt that if most chicks I know like a particular thing, then most chicks which I do not know yet will like it too. So, I got myself a Vios. Now for the color. I’m not so much into shopping. It doesn’t take me hours to decide if it looks nice or does it match my hair color. In less than five minutes I can buy a pair of jeans. In ten minutes I can buy a shirt and a shoe and a pair of jeans. And in thirty seconds, I managed to choose the color of the car which I will be driving for at least five to ten years. Why did I choose this color? Simple. It was the first color I saw in the showroom.

In about a week, I drove my new car home, and bid farewell to my old Proton as I silently wished good freaking luck to the future owner. On the first drive I took my parents out in my new car, the inevitable happened as I have predicted. “Boy, why are you driving so fast”. The damn speedometer is right in front of their faces. Man, its annoying and I will have to bear with this for a long long time. To top it all up, and make me feel more like a Ahmad or a taxi driver, maybe I should add this sticker for the benefit of my passengers.

Maybe then I can start charging when I drive people around (Please don’t ask me how I got the sticker…. It was a gift. Sigh.)

Anyway, now that I’m a proud owner of a Vios, I only have one question. Where do all the pretty single ladies that like guys driving cheap Toyotas hang out at?

My new baby. Sorry guys, no 4D numbers.