Cars

Cars are everywhere in this town. But the extraordinary thing to me is the not the number of vehicles that are clogging the dozens of freeways, bypasses, junctions, Jalans, Lorongs, and toll ways in the Klang Valley. It’s not the ones moving that interest me, for their purpose is clear. It’s the ones that aren’t being driven that interest me.

Although I have no reliable stats to back this up, for every car I see on the road, I see another couple in driveways, carports, garages, roadsides, mall car parks, street corners, curbs, grass verges, double parked half on a curb and half on a grass verge, and on yellow lines whilst double parked outside a police station blocking the driveway. You name it, it’s been parked there. Cars here are like litter. A mess of trashy, rusted Protons, their windows having stopped descending years ago, apparently abandoned, under trees, brown mouldy leaves clogging the windshields.

Brash and beasty Porsche 4 wheel drives are squeezed onto the pavement to make way for the 4 other cars already parked in the driveway. When it comes to the resale value of your house, lots of driveway space will increase it significantly.

Strangely enough however, cars are expensive here, particularly foreign cars, which are taxed heavily to protect the domestic automobile industry. I assume that buyers are taking advantage of the 3% car loans that are available. I don’t blame them.


In Naples, Italy, it is not uncommon to see a narrow one way street blocked by a parked car, its owner ignoring the honking and abuse as they leisurely sip on their expresso in the cafe. The KL, Malaysian version of this occurred to me the other day. I was driving past Tanglin Hawker stall near Lake Gardens, home of reputably the best Nasi Lemak in KL. My progress along the narrow lane was halted by a mighty Proton Waja. The Malay driver flashed me a quick wave and smile as he abandoned the vehicle, scurrying to secure his place in the queue. I was in no hurry, and after all, who am I to deny a man his breakfast. So I waited for his return, holding a plastic, styraphome wrapped delight. Another wave and we were on our way through an obstacle course of badly parked metal.