about tyre-shaping twisties, mist-impregnated pristine air, voluminous satay chunks, Mas, and 2 bikers who took a tumble from an RT …….. heheheee ….
by: john paul low
Well, if the 69 km of twisties at Cameron Highlands and the sharp hairpin bends at Genting Highlands get your adrenalin pumping furiously, then the tyre-shaping ride up and down Fraser’s Hill pales in comparison. It’s certainly a recommended entry-level ride for newbies to experience the joys of the meandering mountain roads; and newbies there were a few, like Ong Ah Siew(ST), Thomas Sun(ST), Leon Khoo(GS), Charlie Tseng(CB750), Peter Png(LT) and the writer(ST).
There was a slight drizzle as our team of 21 bikers hit the first of the twisties after lunch at KFC, Rawang. Alex had briefed us on the treacherous road surface and what a combination of moisture, moss, grass and sand can do to our stallions and our pride including, of course, the ignominious end should one hit the bottom of the ravine!
We were sure the peak of Fraser’s Hill made for a better expansive, panoramic view compared to its base and sure enough caution was always at the backs of our mind as the riders pressed their handlebars down and brought them up to top-dead centre again for the next manoeuvre. It was sheer ecstasy, to say the least especially when traffic was light and most of it was one-way. Halfway up, we rode through a surrealistic mist-shrouded haze. Visibility was reduced but we kept our sanity and created enough space for safety.
Peter Png, a nephew of Uncle David, wisely swapped his oversized LT for his uncle’s more manageable BMW 650. Peter had just resurrected his interest in riding after a lapse of 15 years and the LT which he had handled confidently on the North-South Highway, presented a totally different challenge on the serpentine mountain-road.
As the convoy made a right turn into the Jelai Highlands Resort, Tony Chee slowed down his boxy GW because of the metal grills covers over a drain; it was simply a safety manoeuvre but the next moment, right behind him, Kelvin Ang took evasive action and both biker and Varadero took a tumble! Alex was the first to reach him and after some embarrassing laughter, the bike was righted and inspected and Kelvin gave us the thumbs up. Poor chap, this had to happen at a time when he is still waiting for his crash-bars to arrive!
Once we had settled in, the general consensus was to take a leisurely stroll down to a playground. Uncle David relived his childhood days riding dangerously on a spring-loaded wooden horse much to our amusement and loud peels of laughter while the digital cameras captured his antics for posterity.
“Shit, my battery is running out. Alamak, I didn’t charge it and forgot to bring the spare, man,” lamented Tony, the veteran SIA pilot who was scheduled to fly to Paris on Sunday night.
“Gee,” I thought to myself, “just make sure the batteries on the 767 are properly charged, ok!”
First-timer Gunter Morbilzer’s RT didn’t make it past Macap. His BMW broke down because of a faulty sensor and the RT resolutely refused to start. Florence remained behind with him on the shoulder of the North-South Highway and a tow-truck was summoned to fetch Gunter and his RT back to Singapore. What a shame, his first ride with SRMC and it had to be prematurely aborted before he even had the opportunity to sample the sumptuous breakfast that was to come.
Alex led us out of the North-South Highway into Muar and after 15 km of trunk-road riding his choice of our breakfast spot became obvious. The morning crowd of Malaysians, I presumed, had packed the bak kut teh restaurant for a tucker-in.
We occupied three tables and a standard fare of two large claypots of bak kut teh spiced with fresh liver, black and button mushrooms, soya bean strips, succulent pork ribs and belly pork bubbling in the aroma-rich soup accompanied with bowls of specially prepared yam-dried-prawn rice and flour critters were served. Boy oh boy, did we enjoy ourselves!
Tony offered some horticultural advice at the breakfast table, “Yah, chilli padi is better because it’s pesticide free. You know why, it’s so hot that pests keep away.”
When it came to payment, the ever-generous Uncle David settled the bill of RM120 for all of us. “Thank you, Uncle David,” we chorused. Still, there was more to come from Uncle David.
But, if Gunter had the help of a tow-truck all the way home, John Kwa(FJR 1300) and Adam(Magna 750) could count on the reassuring car-headlights of Sam Mat Kous, the personable sales manager of Jelai Highlands Resort. John and Adam had left Gelang Patah late afternoon on Saturday and by the time they made the twisting mountain road at 2000 hrs, the sky was bathed in penetrating darkness and fog.
“No way lah, cannot see. Headlights also no use,” John Kwa roared in his signature laughter.
We were doing our rounds of the watermelons and ginger-tea for dessert when Alex’s handphone rang. Help came in the form of Sam Mat Kous and Alex jumping into a car and heading down the mountain road with its headlights blazing the way.
Both John Kwa and Adam arrived to animated rounds of applause from us; they had ridden through the enveloping darkness and foggy conditions made worse by the slight drizzle that would have turned the road surface into an ice-rink! After Adam broke his fast both of them tucked into a cold but welcome dinner of chicken, eggs and two vegetables.
At the porch, there was the usual bike talk. Uncle Milan decided to ride his RT to the nearby town for an early supper with a few others. Florence made the fateful move to ride pillion on the RT and just as we were about to wave our goodbyes, the inevitable happened!
As she placed her left foot on the footpegs and tried raising her right to straddle the seat, she found the manouvre a trifle too intimidating. The top-box on the RT obstructed her biomechanics and as she retraced her actions she lost her equilibrium and in the process pulled at Uncle Milan whose supporting left leg gave way. You guessed it: machine and 180 kg of flesh and bones tumbled unceremoniously on the tarmac! Once we recovered from the shock, the surrounding hills of Fraser’s resounded with our uncontrollable bursts of laughter – all in good fun, I assure you.
A red-faced and embarrassed Uncle Milan, having regained his composure, ventured an objective and logical explanation but an even more embarrassed Florence who had split her pants shielded her behind with her palms and rushed to change into a sarong! Our best marshal, Chye Kwang had meanwhile quietly captured the moment in Florence’s camera.
At the very first opportunity, Uncle Milan quickly took off with the others for his scheduled early supper without Florence. “Wah, behind very sore, leh,” as she burst out laughing.
Alex had announced during dinner that satay was to be on the house for supper – the house of SRMC, that is. Once again, Sam Mat Kous obliged and drove down to the nearest town in pouring rain to place our orders. There were side orders for groundnuts and beer too.
Boy, was it cold! 16 to 18 deg C. Since supper was still a long way off and the rain had put paid to any outdoor plans we had, the next best thing was to gather in groups and chat. Tony retrieved three bottles of red and white wines from the resort’s fridge and together with a large packet of pistachios and figs he had air-flown in from the Middle East, we had a ball of a time downing the wines and beer and crunching the groundnuts, till ……
Tony spotted the 1.7-metre, gregarious, 25-year-old Mas at the reception counter looking bored and sorely unappreciated. The Malacca-born beauty carried her slim voluptuous frame splendidly and with each step she fired our libido. Her smile was enticing, too enticing, while her sparkling eyes shouted “I’m available; I’m not attached.”
“Tak ada abang; tak ada mata air. Tak dah orang mahu lah” she mused. Translated it means: “No husband; no boyfriend. Nobody wants me.”
So how could that be? She works seven days a week even on her day off and stays in a room on level 3. If there are guests in the resort which is owned by a Malaysian datuk, she and four other employees multi-task and work till 2300 hrs or later. Once in two months, she uses her accumulated leave and head for home.
We chatted her up in Malay and soon, Tony who flies paying passengers all over the world, offered to pillion her free-of-charge on his GW back to her hometown, Merlimau in historical Malacca – afterall, Tony’s folks are still in Jasin a short distance away.
Fraser’s Hill satay was served at 2300 hrs as scheduled and as the rain continued to pelt down on the perspex roof over our heads, each of us stuffed ourselves silly with 15 sticks each for a start. Amidst loud and candid conversation, a number of us went for second and third servings of chicken satay and ketupat with Alex leading the way. John Kwa had gone up to his room, showered and promptly dozed off.
Newbie Charlie Tseng (CB750) shared how he lost the gamble with his fuel-tank. After the Muar breakfast stop, he had failed to top up his tank, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach Seremban R&R; but luck ran out on him and his yellow stallion sputtered to a dehydrated stop 300 metres from the petrol station. There was nothing else to do except to push the CB750 the distance.
Phua who rode a GW on the Grik Highway ride had sold off his revalidated-COE hunk for a Yamaha TDM instead. “The road tax is too expensive; 10% loaded every year, leh,” he revealed. I wondered jocularly if that is the reason he is a vegetarian? Hmmm.. now, come to think of it, what did he eat for breakfast at Muar while we slurped bak kut teh?
Meanwhile, SuFang, Vincent Leong’s wife sat there shivering in the cold. Some of us swore that her lips had turned blue but where was Vincent? Uncle Milan and some others had to physically coax him to drape his jacket over her shoulders and make him sit next to poor Su Fang to keep his new bride warm. Gee, and I thought this comes naturally!
The second spread of chicken satay saw very few takers; we had run out of gravy and the cold had desensitised our bellies. The beer and wine had begun to take effect and drowsiness insidiously caused our eyelids to meet. Still, it was a welcome move after the long ride from Gelang Patah at 0800 hrs.
The next morning’s nasi lemak breakfast was especially palatable because of the sambal; they sure know how a sambal should be prepared. While the sambal fired our taste-buds, our tongues blazed with conversation and by the time the late-risers made their call at the breakfast table, there wasn’t much left. Florence and Jason Quek were especially late; they arrived after the waiters had cleared the table.
By then, Uncle David and the whole gang had left the resort for a morning stroll at the lower hills. Tony and I stayed back to give our bikes the tender loving care which owners are wont to do. As I wiped my ST to soak up the copious rainwater deposited the night before, Tony polished his GW like a shoeshine boy would.
“Hello, sayang,” I heard him call out ever so tenderly. Turning around I noticed the svelte Mas clearing the breakfast table. Once that job was done we invited her to inspect our bikes – much like a VIP inspecting a guard-of-honour. My ST was first then the GW. Sam Mat Kous, the sales manager, trooped out with his point-and-shoot camera and fired away. Tony and I posed individually with Mas and Tony fired off his digital camera with the help of Sam.
Mas longed for a ride on the GW and with some encouragement from Sam and Tony, she rushed back to her room and returned in a pair of pants that accentuated every curve in her lower anatomy. Tony slipped a helmet ever so fluidly over her pretty head and adjusted the straps for her. The gentle breeze that brought a whiff of her body fragrance into our nasal passages, drove the dormant animal in us to crazy and unrestrained ecstasy. So off they went with Mas as the guide.
Uncle David and the boys returned from their morning nature stroll reeking of durians. It seemed they had found a stall selling the king-of-the-fruits and everyone had their fill of the succulent and aromatic flesh and again it was the generous and affable Uncle David who paid for their embellishments. By the time Tony plonked Miss Fraser’s Hill 2001 at the porch of the resort, lunch was served.
The downhill ride started after a meticulous briefing by Alex in which he left no stones unturned. Again, safety was uppermost in his mind. It was tyre-shaping time once again and my new set of Metzler 33/55 combination performed to expectation. We took the route to Raub then Genting and KL stopping and regrouping before the turn to Kajang.
“You can shape your tyres some more,” he suggested to a biker as he went round inspecting the front tyres of all the bikes there. “The professionals leave nothing behind.”
Ong Ah Siew, Tony and I decided to make it back on our own to Singapore because of prior commitments. Ah Siew had to get back to work while Tony was flying to Paris that evening; I had to visit my 85-year-old mother in hospital. The rest took a left turn into Kajang town to relish the famous Kajang satay.
Uncle David’s LT picked up a pin on its rear tyre but in less than five minutes, Kelvin sealed up the leak with his gun-type repair kit and mushroom rubber plug. John Kwa and Uncle David’s nephew, Peter Png were impressed. Later, back in Singapore, John Kwa sent me an SMS to enquire where he could get the same set of repair kit that Kelvin owned. “Sold!” I told him. Tony was the one who had brought in these Taiwanese-made gun-type kits and almost ten sets were snapped up by stormers, including me. A quick SMS to Tony in Paris confirmed a set for the lucky John Kwa!
“Wah satay very good, man. Big chunks of meat and large bowls of gravy,” Kelvin told me later. Indeed, Kajang satay is very well-known and different from satay sold elsewhere including Fraser’s Hill. Alex promptly packed 30 sticks for his family members back home.
Ah Siew, Tony and I headed towards KL and saw Uncle Milan and Vincent waiting at the road shoulder. We waved and they responded. Ah Siew missed a left turn and we eventually ended up at the Sungei Besi toll. From there, it was the Seremban R&R and later at the Pagoh R&R we met up with Uncle Milan and Vincent again. We left for home while they met up with the Kajang group at Senai for supper. Alex and John Kwa gave the Senai destination a miss and rode to the 2nd Link instead.
Meanwhile, I made a turn into Gelang Patah while my two buddies headed for the Immigration Checkpoint. Sure, I was disappointed – my favourite satay-man at Gelang Patah town had taken a month off because of Ramadan, the Muslim fasting month. Similarly, my teh-ice man was also nowhere to be found ; all the same I made friends with a young Malay couple selling fried chicken and rojak and enjoyed a lively conversation with them. It was about closing time, so they gave me a small discount.
On behalf of the following participants:
Paul Kan(ST), Puah Tiam Keng(TDM), Uncle David(LT), Peter Png(BMW650), Peter Tan(Hayabusa), Andy Leong(Suzuki), Jason Quek(S4), Adam(Magna750), Thomas Sun(ST), Kelvin Ang(Varadero), Tony Chee(GW), Peter Ng(ST), Leon Khoo(GS), Uncle Milan(RT), Mike Yeo(BMW650), Ong Ah Siew(ST), Charlie Tseng(CB750) and GunterMorbilzer(RT)
allow me to thank our organisers and marshals:
Alex Quah(RT), Koh Chai Kwang(R6), Vincent Leong and Goh Su Fang(ST) and Florence Lee(PC800) for their organisational and marshalling expertise;
and to all who took the opportunity to shape their tyres:
thanks for the memories, for the most pleasant ride, for the warm camaraderie, the lively and animated conversations, the food, the resonant snores and a chance to get to know you.
by: john paul low
Well, if the 69 km of twisties at Cameron Highlands and the sharp hairpin bends at Genting Highlands get your adrenalin pumping furiously, then the tyre-shaping ride up and down Fraser’s Hill pales in comparison. It’s certainly a recommended entry-level ride for newbies to experience the joys of the meandering mountain roads; and newbies there were a few, like Ong Ah Siew(ST), Thomas Sun(ST), Leon Khoo(GS), Charlie Tseng(CB750), Peter Png(LT) and the writer(ST).
There was a slight drizzle as our team of 21 bikers hit the first of the twisties after lunch at KFC, Rawang. Alex had briefed us on the treacherous road surface and what a combination of moisture, moss, grass and sand can do to our stallions and our pride including, of course, the ignominious end should one hit the bottom of the ravine!
We were sure the peak of Fraser’s Hill made for a better expansive, panoramic view compared to its base and sure enough caution was always at the backs of our mind as the riders pressed their handlebars down and brought them up to top-dead centre again for the next manoeuvre. It was sheer ecstasy, to say the least especially when traffic was light and most of it was one-way. Halfway up, we rode through a surrealistic mist-shrouded haze. Visibility was reduced but we kept our sanity and created enough space for safety.
Peter Png, a nephew of Uncle David, wisely swapped his oversized LT for his uncle’s more manageable BMW 650. Peter had just resurrected his interest in riding after a lapse of 15 years and the LT which he had handled confidently on the North-South Highway, presented a totally different challenge on the serpentine mountain-road.
As the convoy made a right turn into the Jelai Highlands Resort, Tony Chee slowed down his boxy GW because of the metal grills covers over a drain; it was simply a safety manoeuvre but the next moment, right behind him, Kelvin Ang took evasive action and both biker and Varadero took a tumble! Alex was the first to reach him and after some embarrassing laughter, the bike was righted and inspected and Kelvin gave us the thumbs up. Poor chap, this had to happen at a time when he is still waiting for his crash-bars to arrive!
Once we had settled in, the general consensus was to take a leisurely stroll down to a playground. Uncle David relived his childhood days riding dangerously on a spring-loaded wooden horse much to our amusement and loud peels of laughter while the digital cameras captured his antics for posterity.
“Shit, my battery is running out. Alamak, I didn’t charge it and forgot to bring the spare, man,” lamented Tony, the veteran SIA pilot who was scheduled to fly to Paris on Sunday night.
“Gee,” I thought to myself, “just make sure the batteries on the 767 are properly charged, ok!”
First-timer Gunter Morbilzer’s RT didn’t make it past Macap. His BMW broke down because of a faulty sensor and the RT resolutely refused to start. Florence remained behind with him on the shoulder of the North-South Highway and a tow-truck was summoned to fetch Gunter and his RT back to Singapore. What a shame, his first ride with SRMC and it had to be prematurely aborted before he even had the opportunity to sample the sumptuous breakfast that was to come.
Alex led us out of the North-South Highway into Muar and after 15 km of trunk-road riding his choice of our breakfast spot became obvious. The morning crowd of Malaysians, I presumed, had packed the bak kut teh restaurant for a tucker-in.
We occupied three tables and a standard fare of two large claypots of bak kut teh spiced with fresh liver, black and button mushrooms, soya bean strips, succulent pork ribs and belly pork bubbling in the aroma-rich soup accompanied with bowls of specially prepared yam-dried-prawn rice and flour critters were served. Boy oh boy, did we enjoy ourselves!
Tony offered some horticultural advice at the breakfast table, “Yah, chilli padi is better because it’s pesticide free. You know why, it’s so hot that pests keep away.”
When it came to payment, the ever-generous Uncle David settled the bill of RM120 for all of us. “Thank you, Uncle David,” we chorused. Still, there was more to come from Uncle David.
But, if Gunter had the help of a tow-truck all the way home, John Kwa(FJR 1300) and Adam(Magna 750) could count on the reassuring car-headlights of Sam Mat Kous, the personable sales manager of Jelai Highlands Resort. John and Adam had left Gelang Patah late afternoon on Saturday and by the time they made the twisting mountain road at 2000 hrs, the sky was bathed in penetrating darkness and fog.
“No way lah, cannot see. Headlights also no use,” John Kwa roared in his signature laughter.
We were doing our rounds of the watermelons and ginger-tea for dessert when Alex’s handphone rang. Help came in the form of Sam Mat Kous and Alex jumping into a car and heading down the mountain road with its headlights blazing the way.
Both John Kwa and Adam arrived to animated rounds of applause from us; they had ridden through the enveloping darkness and foggy conditions made worse by the slight drizzle that would have turned the road surface into an ice-rink! After Adam broke his fast both of them tucked into a cold but welcome dinner of chicken, eggs and two vegetables.
At the porch, there was the usual bike talk. Uncle Milan decided to ride his RT to the nearby town for an early supper with a few others. Florence made the fateful move to ride pillion on the RT and just as we were about to wave our goodbyes, the inevitable happened!
As she placed her left foot on the footpegs and tried raising her right to straddle the seat, she found the manouvre a trifle too intimidating. The top-box on the RT obstructed her biomechanics and as she retraced her actions she lost her equilibrium and in the process pulled at Uncle Milan whose supporting left leg gave way. You guessed it: machine and 180 kg of flesh and bones tumbled unceremoniously on the tarmac! Once we recovered from the shock, the surrounding hills of Fraser’s resounded with our uncontrollable bursts of laughter – all in good fun, I assure you.
A red-faced and embarrassed Uncle Milan, having regained his composure, ventured an objective and logical explanation but an even more embarrassed Florence who had split her pants shielded her behind with her palms and rushed to change into a sarong! Our best marshal, Chye Kwang had meanwhile quietly captured the moment in Florence’s camera.
At the very first opportunity, Uncle Milan quickly took off with the others for his scheduled early supper without Florence. “Wah, behind very sore, leh,” as she burst out laughing.
Alex had announced during dinner that satay was to be on the house for supper – the house of SRMC, that is. Once again, Sam Mat Kous obliged and drove down to the nearest town in pouring rain to place our orders. There were side orders for groundnuts and beer too.
Boy, was it cold! 16 to 18 deg C. Since supper was still a long way off and the rain had put paid to any outdoor plans we had, the next best thing was to gather in groups and chat. Tony retrieved three bottles of red and white wines from the resort’s fridge and together with a large packet of pistachios and figs he had air-flown in from the Middle East, we had a ball of a time downing the wines and beer and crunching the groundnuts, till ……
Tony spotted the 1.7-metre, gregarious, 25-year-old Mas at the reception counter looking bored and sorely unappreciated. The Malacca-born beauty carried her slim voluptuous frame splendidly and with each step she fired our libido. Her smile was enticing, too enticing, while her sparkling eyes shouted “I’m available; I’m not attached.”
“Tak ada abang; tak ada mata air. Tak dah orang mahu lah” she mused. Translated it means: “No husband; no boyfriend. Nobody wants me.”
So how could that be? She works seven days a week even on her day off and stays in a room on level 3. If there are guests in the resort which is owned by a Malaysian datuk, she and four other employees multi-task and work till 2300 hrs or later. Once in two months, she uses her accumulated leave and head for home.
We chatted her up in Malay and soon, Tony who flies paying passengers all over the world, offered to pillion her free-of-charge on his GW back to her hometown, Merlimau in historical Malacca – afterall, Tony’s folks are still in Jasin a short distance away.
Fraser’s Hill satay was served at 2300 hrs as scheduled and as the rain continued to pelt down on the perspex roof over our heads, each of us stuffed ourselves silly with 15 sticks each for a start. Amidst loud and candid conversation, a number of us went for second and third servings of chicken satay and ketupat with Alex leading the way. John Kwa had gone up to his room, showered and promptly dozed off.
Newbie Charlie Tseng (CB750) shared how he lost the gamble with his fuel-tank. After the Muar breakfast stop, he had failed to top up his tank, hoping against hope that he would be able to reach Seremban R&R; but luck ran out on him and his yellow stallion sputtered to a dehydrated stop 300 metres from the petrol station. There was nothing else to do except to push the CB750 the distance.
Phua who rode a GW on the Grik Highway ride had sold off his revalidated-COE hunk for a Yamaha TDM instead. “The road tax is too expensive; 10% loaded every year, leh,” he revealed. I wondered jocularly if that is the reason he is a vegetarian? Hmmm.. now, come to think of it, what did he eat for breakfast at Muar while we slurped bak kut teh?
Meanwhile, SuFang, Vincent Leong’s wife sat there shivering in the cold. Some of us swore that her lips had turned blue but where was Vincent? Uncle Milan and some others had to physically coax him to drape his jacket over her shoulders and make him sit next to poor Su Fang to keep his new bride warm. Gee, and I thought this comes naturally!
The second spread of chicken satay saw very few takers; we had run out of gravy and the cold had desensitised our bellies. The beer and wine had begun to take effect and drowsiness insidiously caused our eyelids to meet. Still, it was a welcome move after the long ride from Gelang Patah at 0800 hrs.
The next morning’s nasi lemak breakfast was especially palatable because of the sambal; they sure know how a sambal should be prepared. While the sambal fired our taste-buds, our tongues blazed with conversation and by the time the late-risers made their call at the breakfast table, there wasn’t much left. Florence and Jason Quek were especially late; they arrived after the waiters had cleared the table.
By then, Uncle David and the whole gang had left the resort for a morning stroll at the lower hills. Tony and I stayed back to give our bikes the tender loving care which owners are wont to do. As I wiped my ST to soak up the copious rainwater deposited the night before, Tony polished his GW like a shoeshine boy would.
“Hello, sayang,” I heard him call out ever so tenderly. Turning around I noticed the svelte Mas clearing the breakfast table. Once that job was done we invited her to inspect our bikes – much like a VIP inspecting a guard-of-honour. My ST was first then the GW. Sam Mat Kous, the sales manager, trooped out with his point-and-shoot camera and fired away. Tony and I posed individually with Mas and Tony fired off his digital camera with the help of Sam.
Mas longed for a ride on the GW and with some encouragement from Sam and Tony, she rushed back to her room and returned in a pair of pants that accentuated every curve in her lower anatomy. Tony slipped a helmet ever so fluidly over her pretty head and adjusted the straps for her. The gentle breeze that brought a whiff of her body fragrance into our nasal passages, drove the dormant animal in us to crazy and unrestrained ecstasy. So off they went with Mas as the guide.
Uncle David and the boys returned from their morning nature stroll reeking of durians. It seemed they had found a stall selling the king-of-the-fruits and everyone had their fill of the succulent and aromatic flesh and again it was the generous and affable Uncle David who paid for their embellishments. By the time Tony plonked Miss Fraser’s Hill 2001 at the porch of the resort, lunch was served.
The downhill ride started after a meticulous briefing by Alex in which he left no stones unturned. Again, safety was uppermost in his mind. It was tyre-shaping time once again and my new set of Metzler 33/55 combination performed to expectation. We took the route to Raub then Genting and KL stopping and regrouping before the turn to Kajang.
“You can shape your tyres some more,” he suggested to a biker as he went round inspecting the front tyres of all the bikes there. “The professionals leave nothing behind.”
Ong Ah Siew, Tony and I decided to make it back on our own to Singapore because of prior commitments. Ah Siew had to get back to work while Tony was flying to Paris that evening; I had to visit my 85-year-old mother in hospital. The rest took a left turn into Kajang town to relish the famous Kajang satay.
Uncle David’s LT picked up a pin on its rear tyre but in less than five minutes, Kelvin sealed up the leak with his gun-type repair kit and mushroom rubber plug. John Kwa and Uncle David’s nephew, Peter Png were impressed. Later, back in Singapore, John Kwa sent me an SMS to enquire where he could get the same set of repair kit that Kelvin owned. “Sold!” I told him. Tony was the one who had brought in these Taiwanese-made gun-type kits and almost ten sets were snapped up by stormers, including me. A quick SMS to Tony in Paris confirmed a set for the lucky John Kwa!
“Wah satay very good, man. Big chunks of meat and large bowls of gravy,” Kelvin told me later. Indeed, Kajang satay is very well-known and different from satay sold elsewhere including Fraser’s Hill. Alex promptly packed 30 sticks for his family members back home.
Ah Siew, Tony and I headed towards KL and saw Uncle Milan and Vincent waiting at the road shoulder. We waved and they responded. Ah Siew missed a left turn and we eventually ended up at the Sungei Besi toll. From there, it was the Seremban R&R and later at the Pagoh R&R we met up with Uncle Milan and Vincent again. We left for home while they met up with the Kajang group at Senai for supper. Alex and John Kwa gave the Senai destination a miss and rode to the 2nd Link instead.
Meanwhile, I made a turn into Gelang Patah while my two buddies headed for the Immigration Checkpoint. Sure, I was disappointed – my favourite satay-man at Gelang Patah town had taken a month off because of Ramadan, the Muslim fasting month. Similarly, my teh-ice man was also nowhere to be found ; all the same I made friends with a young Malay couple selling fried chicken and rojak and enjoyed a lively conversation with them. It was about closing time, so they gave me a small discount.
On behalf of the following participants:
Paul Kan(ST), Puah Tiam Keng(TDM), Uncle David(LT), Peter Png(BMW650), Peter Tan(Hayabusa), Andy Leong(Suzuki), Jason Quek(S4), Adam(Magna750), Thomas Sun(ST), Kelvin Ang(Varadero), Tony Chee(GW), Peter Ng(ST), Leon Khoo(GS), Uncle Milan(RT), Mike Yeo(BMW650), Ong Ah Siew(ST), Charlie Tseng(CB750) and GunterMorbilzer(RT)
allow me to thank our organisers and marshals:
Alex Quah(RT), Koh Chai Kwang(R6), Vincent Leong and Goh Su Fang(ST) and Florence Lee(PC800) for their organisational and marshalling expertise;
and to all who took the opportunity to shape their tyres:
thanks for the memories, for the most pleasant ride, for the warm camaraderie, the lively and animated conversations, the food, the resonant snores and a chance to get to know you.
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