Shit happens...

We returned to KL today, and into the city by noon. My mum packed us what has become our traditional - nasi goreng leftover (i.e. from whatever we had on the last day of puasa etc), customary curry puffs and chicken (of course we all need our proteins).

The flight was half full with supposedly 'terpaksa' people who has to return to work early (you could tell from their long faces). It was an uneventful trip for me and wifey, except for Iris who are always excited with a prospect to fly. Once we asked her if she'd want to become a pilot or an astronaut, and she hesitantly shook her head and said, "no, I want to be a Princess".

Right...

Anyway, this is to tie in with the depressing, inevitable incident that happened to us just before balik raya exodus... our car was smashed by a KL cab in Ampang, right after Mutiara school where we had just dropped a cupcake order from a teacher.

poor Jack

The cab came straight into my direction, and I just heard a screeching sound; and the cab smashed into me on my sight to my right door. I was just a tiny second late, for it would have banged on my wife at the back.

We went to the gynae, and Dr. Abdul Aziz confirmed that my wifey's pregnancy is unaffected. Alhamdulillah... good thing that we were all strapped too (Iris now is fully car-educated).

Insurance claims, police reports aside, and the whole of other etceteras, we dropped the car in Sri Utama. We went home that night talking about driving home in our old trusty Wira. I thought I could do it, until driving to the office the next day. The car won't last its continuous 100 km, let alone crawling in a beaten path between Bentong and Gua Musang. No way.

We contemplated calling relatives and borrow their 2nd/3rd car but resorted to spend the Aidilfitri in KL, after checking unavailable flights, trains or buses (Kota Bharu few days before raya... are you kidding? nak balik every weekend pun susah kot). Wifey was a little apprehensive with the thought of not being able to melaram in her new baju raya etc. It was not until the next morning when I woke up with a crazy thought of checking a flight back to KL. If I could get a ticket back, I could at least do the bas lompat thing (i.e. jump on all domestic buses to Bentong, Raub, Kuantan, Terengganu etc until the final destination). Or of course, I could get a lift from few returning relatives.

What do you know, MAS has few tickets available, and on sale. With RM54/person, I quickly called my brother-in-law and asked if we could return home with them, knowing their small family and ridiculously big MPV to brag about... and we got our seats, alhamdulillah...

All in all, we managed to return home, all of us. Iris was more than happy to play along with her cousins Iskandar and Ikram along the way, and watched Pokoyo on the DVD.

itu Iskandar budak Melayu, tapi pakai sweater macam Mujahidin daa... apa lah mak dia...

We slipped the worst traffic that Friday, and returned safely. But my mind still lingers to my car in the workshop, and it is true what people say, that our car is our second, *ehem... wife (or is it our first mistress)... I miss my car, the one I fondly calls Jack, very dearly... I miss the pleasure it gives me, and its company.

O well, I should get the new door next Wednesday, and hopefully I'll get it fixed before weekend.