(k)Night Rider

Sometimes last week, I decided to take a different route home, and rode on a microbus.

The driver was a man in his 70s, nicknamed "Opung" (Grandpa) by the microbus community, as he is in fact the oldest guy around that still actively drives the microbus every single day. And that seems legit, because they say even his grandchildren are all already married.

And supposedly, he has been driving microbuses since the early '70s.

So that would be before I was born. A fact that somewhat...rattled me.

I mean, it's not that his driving is bad nor dangerous, because far from that, the guy drives pretty safely and leisurely, if not to say slowly. Opung seemed to gracefully accept the fact that he can no longer compete with the younger drivers and their hustlings, and as such choose to take things at their own pace.

It's just that, at his age, I think he has already earned the right to kick back, relax, and enjoy, you know? Which I'm sure his family would agree on also.

But I guess the guy prefers to spend his time doing something slightly more...productive, in a sense. Since from an economical point-of-view where time is money, he's clearly spending more capital than gaining returns. And that rickety microbus, which is not his and is a rental by the way, is a true reflection that his is definitely not a bling-bling job.

Still, watching him doing his thing humbled me.

Which is why I enjoy these kinds of late night 'adventures', 'coz there's always something interesting or fresh to be learned.

Like that night, in that same microbus, when 3 street kids got on, bringing in their party another passenger: a live chicken.

Apparently, they were supposed to sell the chicken to a fried rice hawker to be cooked, but the hawker turned it down for obvious reason, that being the chicken is still alive and breathing.

I personally believe most hawkers will prefer a ready-to-cook chicken over a living-and-yet-to-be-butchered-then-plucked-clean chicken.

Especially if they plan to spend the night actually cooking dishes, and not plucking chicken feathers.

Anyway, from there, I learned that chickens don't much enjoy microbuses rides.

I'll readily admit that the above is a sweeping statement that derived a general conclusion from just a singular occurrence, but you really should hear the sounds that one chicken was making that night.

They ain't happy sounds.

So if you think you've seen it all, try a night ride on a microbus sometimes.

You just might learn something new.