+ The experience of an accident.
I was 'lucky' enough, in my first month as a Malaysian P-licence holder, to be able to experience a long distance drive at night (Tuas, Johor - Home, Kuala Lumpur; 4 hours; 400+km) as well as an accident which involved a motorcyclist whose bike was pretty damaged and who couldn't walk for two days.
I was driving my beloved - the red Mitsubishi Space Gear or as fondly known to us, the red van - to class one day. I was with my roommate Fadzrul, and as usual (at that period of time) Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind was practically on all the radio stations, and we'd spend the ride cursing. I was singalling right to turn into the Section 17, Shah Alam flat carpark. From the opposite direction, a car looked like it was about to turn left into the same carpark I was headed. It was signalling to the left. When the driver looked at me nonchalantly, I thought she was giving me right of way. So I turn right. But as the van moves into the next lane, a fucking kapcai appears from behind the car, swerves around it and, seeing the big red van block his way, brakes and slides sideways and rams the hood of my van. I was half-way turned in, and he hit me from a 10- or 11-o'clock direction.
His side rammed me. It was just so surreal. A bike sliding and skidding, rider looking like he's trying his best to control his machine. Bike ramming into the van. He bounces up and his helmet hits the windscreen. I brake hard. He's lying on the road screaming, squirming, hands on his legs.
The taking care of him and trying to do something to right your wrong. The guilt. The nervy feeling. The "it wasn't my fault, saya mangsa keadaaan je!" feeling. Knowing nobody's gonna believe you. Going to the clinic and seeing his parents' dismay; looking at the way they look at me; promising them I'd pay for the X-ray and whatever medication and then walking out because I was too shaken. Being chased by his father as I tried to make it to class. Being told to pay the bill. The confrontation/compensation once he could walk - ketuk handle motor bengkok: RM100, seminggu tak boleh kerja: RM50 sudeh... The mark on the van. Damn, it was cute.
I was 'lucky' enough, in my first month as a Malaysian P-licence holder, to be able to experience a long distance drive at night (Tuas, Johor - Home, Kuala Lumpur; 4 hours; 400+km) as well as an accident which involved a motorcyclist whose bike was pretty damaged and who couldn't walk for two days.
I was driving my beloved - the red Mitsubishi Space Gear or as fondly known to us, the red van - to class one day. I was with my roommate Fadzrul, and as usual (at that period of time) Paris Hilton's Stars are Blind was practically on all the radio stations, and we'd spend the ride cursing. I was singalling right to turn into the Section 17, Shah Alam flat carpark. From the opposite direction, a car looked like it was about to turn left into the same carpark I was headed. It was signalling to the left. When the driver looked at me nonchalantly, I thought she was giving me right of way. So I turn right. But as the van moves into the next lane, a fucking kapcai appears from behind the car, swerves around it and, seeing the big red van block his way, brakes and slides sideways and rams the hood of my van. I was half-way turned in, and he hit me from a 10- or 11-o'clock direction.
His side rammed me. It was just so surreal. A bike sliding and skidding, rider looking like he's trying his best to control his machine. Bike ramming into the van. He bounces up and his helmet hits the windscreen. I brake hard. He's lying on the road screaming, squirming, hands on his legs.
The taking care of him and trying to do something to right your wrong. The guilt. The nervy feeling. The "it wasn't my fault, saya mangsa keadaaan je!" feeling. Knowing nobody's gonna believe you. Going to the clinic and seeing his parents' dismay; looking at the way they look at me; promising them I'd pay for the X-ray and whatever medication and then walking out because I was too shaken. Being chased by his father as I tried to make it to class. Being told to pay the bill. The confrontation/compensation once he could walk - ketuk handle motor bengkok: RM100, seminggu tak boleh kerja: RM50 sudeh... The mark on the van. Damn, it was cute.
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