Expecting Daniel Hamzah
This ROSEBANK protective head gear costs me AU$50. Hmm… quite a bit pricey for a bicycle helmet. But wait a minute, “it’s not about a bike”, says Lance Armstrong. Yes, I know it should be about pride. It’s about something that I must be proud of when I put it on my head, like a King wearing his big Crown, like a Professor showing off his grey hair, like a Soldier protecting his dignity, like a Philosopher safeguarding his precious mind. And I’m really proud of my choice because this helmet is a certified product and proudly made in Australia. I shall be certainly and proudly carrying this helmet on my dizzy head every evening, happily riding my new bike from one big park to another park, joining thousands of cycling enthusiasts in Melbourne.
As I touch and admire the “transformer” design of this red helmet, I feel like being teleported to my childhood. I feel like a little boy again in Kampung Binjal, Kangkong, Pasir Mas, Kelantan. Of course, riding a bicycle was always part of my childhood. In my case, it was a black, sexy, elegant BMX bike. My father bought it for me when I was about 10 years old. I was so proud of my BMX. I remember riding it carelessly around my kampung every evening, competing against my elder sisters every morning to Sekolah Kebangsaan Kangkong, or going for a weekly ride to Danau Toba near To’ Uban with my childhood friends – PPuyi, Mak Aming and Yi Kak Soh. Many of my fond memories with them always revolved around that macho BMX.
There was a moment that I couldn’t forget. My friend invited me to a birthday party and I was about to ride my BMX when I realized that I couldn’t pedal it properly. The chains were stretched and worn-out. I was crying and whining over that poor thing and sulking about it, not wanting to go to the party anymore. But my late Ma came to my rescue and immediately fixed my BMX with her own hands. The image of my poor mother squatting next to the bike and pouring the black, smelly lubricants over the rusty chains keeps playing in my mind for so many years. I must have felt guilty to let my mother do the dirty stuff simply because I wanted to have fun at a birthday party. I went to the party anyway and left my oily mother at home. Whatever happens to that BMX now, I hope he has met my Ma in heaven and thanked her for saving his life, and I hope he is thinking of me for all the beautiful moments we shared together.
Well, my Ma is no longer here with me to lubricate my bike, but this helmet will surely protect my big stubborn head. It’s still a week’s away before I can start riding a bike in Melbourne. My handsome new bike is still being assembled in a factory. I just can’t wait to see him next week. My arms are all open for him. He will be my new little brother in Melbourne. He is my Daniel Hamzah.
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haha…ingat henpon je bagi nama, beskal pun nak letak nama ek.
Err, nape tak bagi nama Daniel Hilmi je terus.
*kite dulu naik beskal chopper je, BMX mahal *
Every single thing deserves a name