The Midnight Ride

I shudder each time I think of "what could have happened" and "what would I have done had it happened", during those days of long ago when I was young and had the world at my feet.

Being a mother of two grown daughters and stepmother to another, I understand only too well the kind of pressure they face daily, at work or socially, and they have my unreserved sympathy.

When they come home fused, highly agitated or just plain angry with someone or something (usually it's someone, and most times it's a sleazeball), they know they have me to unload their woes on.

But the world was different when I was young. Back then, it wasn't a done deal to confide in your parents or elders about issues of the heart. You just coped the best you could because you didn't want them to worry about you.

Many a times I had to depend on my wit, creativity, large doses of good luck, and endless prayers to God Almighty, to get out of really icky situations, almost all of which were due to my own naivete.

One episode I could not erase from my mind happened just months after I started work as a reporter with the Malay Mail.

I was confronted with an issue too big for me, at 19, to handle, yet handle it I did, and came out physically unscathed but emotionally shaken.

Not so long ago Mat Bangkai of "What, No Tea and Scones?" mentioned in passing, in his blog, a name that still sends "what if" chills down my spine 36 years later.

The ertswhile devil (let's call him Mr A) would be in his late 60s today, and I hope to God he has repented.

I became acquainted with this well-known radio entity when I was put on the RTM beat four months into my job as a reporter.

Being young and innocent, I accepted his friendship at face value. What I never knew was he had a hidden agenda.

All things considered, those folks up in Angkasapuri were a very nice, friendly bunch. They were not skint with their knowledge and went out of their way to show this greenhorn the ropes.

Outwardly, Mr A was no exception, so when he invited me out to dinner one day, I accepted. I vaguely remember him telling me his wife was back in her hometown and he needed someone to talk to.

I had gone out to dinners with TV and radio personalities before - it was part of my job as an entertainment writer - so there was no reason to refuse his invitation.

By all accounts it was a good outing and when he offered to send me home after coffee, I was thankful for the generosity. Little did I know I was about to be taken on a ride of terror, literally.

Befuddled as I was (I was still unsure about KL routes), I realised we weren't exactly heading for Cheras where I lived with my aunt and her family. But fear kept my mouth shut, although I was shivering inside.

As we drove on, I saw road signs saying "Ipoh". It was almost midnight; darkness prevailed and the stretch was lonely. (We were on the KL-Ipoh trunk road; this was during the pre-PLUS Highway days).

I instinctively knew I was in for an ordeal. I had to think and act fast. So I asked him quietly where we were going.

His reply rings clear even today. This married man (and probably father of a few kids, I don't know) said: "We are driving to Ipoh. We are going to spend the night in Ipoh."

I was so shocked with the answer I could have fainted. But God was great. I found strength I never knew I had. Steadying myself, I told him to turn the car around and return to KL.

He refused. Instead he stopped the car in the middle of nowhere and tried to paw me. I remember raising my voice, almost shrieking: "If you harm me in any way, I shall ruin you - your name, your career, your marriage, your future - everything!"

That, somehow seemed to sink in. He backed off, shook himself, started the car and drove back to KL in complete silence.

Instead of dropping me home, I asked him to leave me on the NSTP doorstep in Jalan Bangsar. I no longer wanted to share the air I breathed in with this scumbag.

I tried to steer clear of him whenever I was in Angkasapuri, but our paths crossed many times in the canteen. As always, he greeted me cordially, pretending as though nothing had happened.

On my part, I usually tried to sneak away when he came into view. I abhorred his very being. He made me feel unclean. It took me a long while to come to terms with the situation.

I spoke to no one and told no one about it. I felt ashamed it happened as though it was my fault it did, so it never crossed my mind to confide in anybody.

Today, 36 years on, I have forgiven him but I have not forgotten how terrifying it felt to be trapped in that car in the middle of nowhere, like a caged animal desperate to break free...