Hare: Old Farts
Venue: Ostrich Farm, Semenyih
Scribe: Dadahman for H B
Here's proof positive that I do read my SMS's. Sometime early in the week Helen SMSed me to scribe for her. On Saturday, I actually read the message. But Saturday was rainy and by the time I woke up and got all the scratching done, it was late and calling all my usual rides and even some not-even-remotely-usual rides drew a blank. Luckily the rain stopped around half past 3 and I could take a slow bike ride to the run, arriving at 5. Dang, no juicy gossip to be picked up before the run! One of the hares around the wagon said the run had checks that are "too easy" to which our witty beerman Ramli added "He means there are two easy checks, the other 10 are very difficult". The last time Ramli gave me some info, it was that the bus taking the "short-run" runners had already left and going with that info, I came out at 12 midnight. Uncle Looi started on me for not going in reverse, not knowing that I had inherited some great Indian tracking genes from great-grandpa Eagle-eye Muthusamy, the greatest tracker in the west (of Malaysia, not the Americas).
Anyway the run went in anti-clockwise, and soon some shiggy and up a hill into a rubber estate that gave the impression of being abandoned but was actually been tapped for rubber. Check was on top of the hill but broken back. It was at this stage that my mind wandered to an email from Volvo Khoo - could I please change the color of the treeman pants from red to green as stated in the Constitutiion? What! We have a Constitution! And somebody has actually read through it! I think I got the logo yonks ago from a scan of the treeman from the masthead of an old PH3 newsletter. If true, that treeman has been running out-of-uniform for a long time. And only now somebody's noticed! Tsk!
Oops, I've run out of paper. Must keep my mind from wandering from such heady matters and concentrate on the job at hand. Backtrack, find connecting paper, down through some more shiggy, into proper rubber, another check broken forward, it's all a blur now. A bit of a climb in a nice dusun, down the other side into another swamp, in fact quite a bit with the hare taking us up and down through every swamp and every colony of biting ants he can find, some jungly bits, some nice rubber, some shitty rubber, through some illegal Indon worker's backyard, more dusuns, a few bits of barbed wire where harriettes used to getting down on all fours would have the advantage, a bit with a great view of a factory, a bit that would have scared Fuckawee shitless (i.e a bit with banana trees - Fuckawee gets visions of a male pontianak waving to him when he's around banana trees) and a bit of a long steep grassy slope where standing upright was all but impossible. It's there that I finally run in Amelia exchanging mobile numbers with a new found friend. I slow down a bit as Amelia has trouble with finding the trail. Finally come out as Uncle Looi, bless his heart, was about to put on his shoes to come in looking for us. NOT!
Slightly smaller crowd today. GM calls the circle to order just as it gets dark. Don asks me why I didn't call him for a ride. I always assume "More Chinaman" or "Many Chinese" meant him. I run into Greg Bridgestock and start talking about all those people I know who seem to be falling dead recently, totally forgetting that I'm supposed to record every excruciating detail of the circle for this report. All I remember is someone called Ovulation Stimulator on the box and someone doing a great imitation of a frog in the dark (probably Aussie, gender unknown). The hash shag gets some harriettes on the box, he's had a T-shirt down the pants of his surgically-enhanced body and nobody's noticed. Listen, the god of surgical improvement, Michael Jackson, has had bits of his body fall off so what's a poor girl to think, what's dropped off the hash shag I wonder? (Now that Obama's gained the presidency, do you think MJ will go back to black? Are the effects of hydroquinone reversible?). Anyway the GM's better half has a go at him for blaming the women.
I get called on the box with Amelia, on suspicion of having a leg over with her on the trail. I thank the GM for the compliment but I think there are bits of me that even the best hash-shag medical magic couldn't revitalize. Though I wouldn't turn away any harriette craving a challenge that even the best science today would consider impossible. Anyway back at the circle, Kojak and the hash shag have a bit of a to-and-fro about the hash shags new cloggie duds (socks I mean). FGB, you're not missed! An announcement and the circle's done.
I head for home as these days my body demands recuperation by the lie-motionless-on-the-floor-for-several-hours method after every run. My mind however would like to thank the hares for a great run.
P.S. Totally unrelated but a sign's come up in the shops near my house. Under the Malay and Chinese bits, it says "KAM YUM MEDICAL AND TUINA CENTER". Will somebody more expert in Cantonese please tell me I'm wrong in my pronunciation and understanding of that fifth word?
Posted by webmaster at November 15, 2008 02:13 PM