My Wira

It’s weird how people can get emotional over things.
Things as in, objects…
Things that are itself incapable of emotion.

I don’t often get emotional over things, but the day my old Wira was sold off, was a day of sorrow for me.

The Wira started out as my mom’s car.
Then when I got my driving license, it became MY car.
My very first car.

I remember the mixture of pride, fear and pleasure that I felt the first time I drove the car to tuition (I was facing my SPM that year… being a February baby had the perk of giving me an early driver’s license, so I could chauffeur myself to tuition classes).

I LOVED that Wira.
It started out jet-black and I took great pleasure in washing it every Sunday and watch it gleam.
It felt good to be the only girl in my group of friends who could drive and actually had her own car to drive!
And boy did I love driving.

Apa? We’re out of garam. Never fear, Diha is here! And off I’d drive to the neighborhood kedai mamak. Apa? You forgot to tell me that you’re also out of santan? Takper takper… And again, I’d speed off to the mamak store.

Speed.
That’s something I learned about by driving a car.

I was in the track team at school. A sprinter. Soo very perasan that I was fast.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess that I had a thrill for speed so imagine what happened when I got behind the wheel of a car…

When I was still schooling, I was careful. Still cautious and wary of the traffic.
Then I went to university.
After a few years behind the wheel, I gained confidence. A bit too much, in fact.
So I sped.

I had numerous speeding tickets.
I had my own personal list of excuses to offer if stopped by a policeman.
(My favourites:- “Sakit perut, Tuan. I really really really need to get to a toilet... NOW!” and “OH MY GOD! I was speeding? Mintak maaf tuan… saya… saya tak perasan… Saya... (sob!) saya baru saja (insert insanely boring problem and go on and on and on about it)”)

Then I got involved in a four-car pile up on the NKVE.

I was car No.2.
To make a long story short, it was all caused by a stupid Kancil driver who cut-off the guy in front of me who promptly stepped on the brakes and I did the same but was then hit in the rear by a 4WD which was then hit by a Volvo.

My darling Wira was totaled.

My most vivid memory of that accident was me sitting on the curb of the highway.
A sweet old lady from a house nearby had handed me a glass of water.
Wan had just arrived with his buddies and was trying to fend off the tow-truck drivers who were pestering me.
Several of my university friends who recognized my car stopped by to see if I was okay.

And I just sat there and stared at my Wira.

The front end was banged up pretty badly.
The headlights were smashed, the windscreen shattered…
The rear end was… not there anymore.
The impact had smashed it in.

It didn’t look like a car anymore. It was a wreck. A really bad one.
I couldn’t imagine ANY mechanic being able to fix it.
I was sitting there on the curb, pining and mourning the death of my Wira…

The days went by in a blur.
My parents were kind enough not to nag me much, knowing that I was already being punished with my own guilt.
My dad asked me what color I wanted to paint the car, since it was already in the workshop and all.
I nonchalantly said ‘silver’. Still unable to imagine anyone could fix my poor, destroyed Wira.

A couple of weeks later, my dad drove it home
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
There wasn’t a single sign to show that it used to be the wreck that it was on the NKVE a few weeks before.
The silver paint gleamed under the sun and even its wheels were shining.
I know this sounds freaky, but it almost felt like my Wira was forgiving me and was enticing me to come drive it.
Heheheh… So I did.
For five more wonderful years :)

The Wira saw me grow up.
It saw me:-

• Running errands for my parents and occasionally having them in the passenger seat, wringing their hands and hissing “Not so fast, not so fast!”
• Sending my little sister to kindergarten and watching her bop to the music with a lolly in her hand.
• Picking up my smelly brothers from wherever the heck they were and telling them to wipe their feet before they came in the car.
• Cruising around KL with my gang of friends, singing along with the radio, checking out guys without looking like we were checking ‘em out, being checked out by guys and pretending not to notice.
• Ferrying my friends around town while they made frantic wardrobe changes in the backseat.

The Wira was also my great companion whilst I was getting my law degree…
It saw me:-
• Talking to myself at a red light; in my attempts to memorize the hundreds of case law we were required to regurgitate during tutorials.
• Speed (albeit cautiously) back home to pick up a statute that I needed for my crucial finals.
• Poring over my notes in the car, while waiting for the doors to the exam hall to open.
• Bang the steering wheel in frustration when I suddenly recalled a crucial piece of information I should have used in my exam answer.
• Fervently argue with my imaginary opponent while driving to a debate tournament venue.
• Lovingly fondle my debate trophy or ranting about the stupid judge who made us lose.
• Sleep curled up on the seat in exhaustion after a day of debating.

The Wira was also the vehicle that witnessed my courting days with Wan.
It saw me:-
• Checking out my make-up in the rearview mirror a million times before I finally open the door to meet my date.
• Gaze out the passenger window while Wan drove the Wira… I was too freakin’ shy to make eye contact with the dude then.
• Gradually open up to Wan and have decent conversations with him.
• Trying very hard not to blush or giggle when his hand inched to hold mine.
• Having deep, meaningful heart to heart talks with the man that I would marry in a few years time.

You see, my Wira wasn’t just my car.
It was my buddy.

Yes, I realize it’s a pile of metal but it’s a pile of metal that had seen me through my formative years.

After graduation, my parents generously bought me a graduation gift; the car that I’m driving now. And the Wira was unceremoniously handed to my brother, Irfan.

With my new wheels, I no longer gave the Wira a second look. I mean, it was there. Irfan was driving it around, making his own bunch of memories with it. I didn't really bother with it anymore. I knew it was ... you know... there.

Then the day came when my parents decided to sell it.
When I first got whiff of the news, I promptly went outside to where my brother parked the car and walked around it.

I was amused to see the dead mini-cockroach still stuck inside the dashboard (don’t know how it got there; don’t know how come it has not disintegrated after more than 10 years!)
I peered in at the backseat and smiled to myself, thinking of how messy and cluttered it was during my uni days; with books, notes, pens, shoes, clothes, CD’s, scarfs and other stuff.
I glanced at the rooftop and remembered the day I was silly enough to leave my file on top of it and drive off; only to be greeted with a rain of notepaper scattering in the road in front of me (picking ‘em up was a traffic hazard…but the final exams were looming and I HAD to save ‘em!)

They can’t sell this car!
They can’t sell my memories!
Of course, I didn’t voice this out loud to my parents, lest they felt that their firstborn was losing her mind.

It took some time for them to find the best buyer.
And I only heard about it from my brother.
By the time I got home, my Wira was gone.

I think Irfan was even more upset than I was.
Yes, he was getting a new car to replace the Wira, and he was very excited about his new wheels.
But like me, he had a lot of memories with the Wira.
We spent some time reminiscing about the Wira, sharing anecdotes and sighing wistful sighs.

Yes, it’s weird how people can get emotional over things.
Maybe it’s because a lot of emotions were spent over those ‘things’…
Or maybe it's just because these people are weird :)

Farewell dear Wira…
I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off.
I hope your new owner will treat you well…
And maybe, you never know, we might bump into each other in the streets of KL.
(Though not LITERALLY bump, I hope)

I told Wan that if we come across my Wira (oh, sorry… not MY wira anymore…), I’ll demand that he stop the car for me to rush over and greet it.
He looked at me as though I was nuts.

And maybe I am.