Once upon a time in China

Yup, another Blast from the Past. This old story actually started back in 1907, long before I was born, with the Peking to Paris Race. My part in the story was relatively recent, in late 2006, when I was one of the two Malaysians invited by Mercedes-Benz to participate in their Paris-Beijing run to commemorate the centennial of that historic auto race. My part in this epic adventure began in Lanzhou, China, and ended in the final destination, Beijing. Though I did not get to drive any four-wheel-drive car, there were several shiny new G-Wagens running around as support and media cars.

IT was not love at first sight. Everything was one shade of brown or another. Beige, buff, cream, khaki, ochre, sand, russet, tan, tawny, terracotta – these are just some of the many shades I needed (yes, a thesaurus was necessary) to describe the desert landscape around Lanzhou in north-western China.
The drab scenery rekindled memories of the month I had spent in the Sahara with the Petronas Adventure Team two years ago. That was an “adventure of a lifetime”. Now, on the edge of China’s Gobi desert, I was about to be a part of another – the Paris-Beijing 2006 E-Class Experience.
On Oct 21, a caravan of 36 diesel-powered Mercedes-Benz E320 CDI sedans had set off from France, on a modern motoring epic that was to end in China, 28 days later.
The journey was broken into five legs, with new teams taking over at the end of each stage. (The only other Malaysian picked for the event was motoring journalist Khong Yin Swan, better known as Y.S. Khong, who went for the second leg from St Petersburg to Yekaterinburg, Russia.)
The participants came from all walks of life and they presented a colourful cross-section of peoples of the world. Tens of thousands of people around the globe responded to advertisements in newspapers, magazines and websites, and were put through a rigorous selection process that included interviews and driving training and evaluation.

Car #35, representing Malaysia and Singapore.

The lucky 360 included several French cabbies (pardon; they insist that they are Parisian taxi drivers!) driving an E320 fitted out as a taxi; a German woman who could pass for a model but builds custom bikes for a living (“yes, just like American Choppers … I’m like Paul Sr”); an engineering consultant who got “very lucky” just by replying to a letter from a magazine; a Mexican who speaks Cantonese; Poles, Slovaks, Koreans, Chinese and journalists.
In the four stages before handing over the cars to the last group, the motorcade had traversed Germany (passing through the cities of Stuttgart and Berlin), Poland (Warsaw), Lithuania (Vilnius), Latvia (Riga), Estonia (Tallinn), Russia (St Petersburg, Moscow, Yekaterinburg), Kazakhstan (Astana, Almaty), and into China.
The final leg, which I was invited to be a part of (as a writer for The Star), took the modern-day caravan from Lanzhou through Hohhot (capital of the autonomous region of Inner Mongolia) to Badaling (where tourists get up close and personal with a part of the Great Wall) and, finally, Beijing.
Along the way, most of the participants absorbed sights, sounds, smells and experiences far different from the daily routine of home.
Lanzhou, the capital of Gansu province and the geometrical centre of China, is the only provincial city through which the mighty Yellow River (Huang He) flows. It used to be an important stopover on the ancient Silk Road and is still a vital hub for transportation and communications today.
Heading from Lanzhou towards the coal-mining and industrial city of Wuhai, those of us who were first-time visitors to China were amazed by the superb new highways that linked the various towns and cities.
And, with a population of 1.3 billion and low wages, it seems the Chinese can afford to have sweepers stationed about a kilometre apart, keeping the multi-lane macadam clear of sand blown in from the surrounding desert! There were also stretches that were so bad that it was like driving through virgin desert.
One of the less savoury discoveries was that there were hardly any toilet facilities along the highways so the travellers simply defecated anywhere and everywhere along the roadside.

Traffic on some sections of the extensive road network was so sparse that we could park the Mercedes in the middle of the highway and take photographs leisurely, while other stretches were congested with everything from toot-tooting three-wheeler lorries to huge semi-trailers and tiny tractors pulling loads of hay as big as houses.
Chinese drivers can be described as unpredictable at best, and red lights are not even a suggestion that you might want to stop.
One particularly useful bit of advice we received was to avoid driving at night since the local motorists do not deem lights to be necessary when travelling on the dark, unlit streets.
But, after a while, my Singaporean co-driver, Geoffrey Eu, and I learned to expect the unexpected. And, a while later, we learned to
overtake using the slow lane, the middle lane, or the emergency lane, just like the locals.
Despite the widely varying road and traffic conditions, there were no serious accidents during the entire journey, and only five fender
benders occurred in traffic.
The well-known German aptitude for organisation and logistics (see Adding up the figures) ensured that things went smoothly, but it
certainly was not an easy task.
The low-sulphur diesel fuel needed for the Mercedes engines was not available on most of the route, so the German oil company Aral had to pre-position supplies. Fuel for the Russian sector was sent via Finland because of its simpler customs procedures while the containers for China were shipped to Shanghai, from where they were taken by trucks to the intermediate stations along the 5,000km route through the Middle Kingdom.

Each evening, as if by magic, a refuelling station complete with regulation pump appeared in the hotel parking lot to top up the tank of each E320 CDI.
But, even the best laid plans cannot forestall every conceivable problem. On the penultimate day, the convoy ground to a halt because a trucker’s blockade completely closed off a stretch of the route.
Fortunately, the enterprising locals quickly organised a guide service – for a small fee, of course – to lead the Mercedes cars around the blockade and through back lanes and rough fields.
As part of the unplanned adventure, we had a surreal moment driving into a new property development called Jackson Hole, complete with American-style log cabins and stone chalets set against a backdrop that looked uncannily like the famous Wyoming resort, just a hundred kilometres from Beijing.
I was among the fortunate ones who made it through the detour quickly and arrived at the next town, Badaling, with ample time to visit its most famous landmark – the Great Wall.
The following day, all that was left to accomplish was a short 90km run into Beijing and the finishing point at the ancient city’s landmark Yongding Gate, with progress aided significantly by police escorts.
Thus ended the adventure inspired by the original 1907 Beijing-Paris rally initiated by the now-defunct Parisian newspaper Le Matin (French for The Morning).
The 2006 edition does have a more practical objective – to demonstrate the economy of diesel engines. With an average consumption of 8.32l/100km for all 36 vehicles over the entire distance, the goal of demonstrating the diesel’s superior fuel efficiency was met on the individual legs as well as over the entire distance.

Although Mercedes probably wouldn’t want to highlight it, the marathon drive is also a confidence booster that demonstrates the company’s recent quality issues have been resolved.
Officially, the total distance travelled was 13,608km but, with cars getting lost, diversions and detours, most cars had clocked up over 14,000km at the finish line on Nov 17.
The fact that the toughest test drivers – ordinary people who don’t own the cars and don’t have to pay for repairs, and journalists – can push the cars over real world roads and tracks, with a punishing schedule, and arrive without any mechanical problems, is convincing testament to the reliability of the new E-Class.

More photos here

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IN Paris 23 days ago, one of the great modern automobile adventures began. In the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, 36 Mercedes-Benz E-320 CDI cars set off on Oct 21 on a 13,600km journey to Beijing, where the fleet will arrive on Nov 17.
Mercedes-Benz intends to use the diesel marathon across two continents to demonstrate the global potential of its technology. It is also a commemoration of the world’s first ever long-distance motor race, the great Beijing (then known as Peking) to Paris run of 1907.
Then, the winner reached his destination in 62 days. With the modern E-Class cars, Mercedes-Benz aims to accomplish this journey in only 26 days.
A total of 360 drivers from 35 countries will each take turns behind the wheel of one of the latest E-Class sedans, which will cover a combined distance of more than 490,000km before arriving in the Chinese capital.

With Mercedes boss Dr Dieter Zetsche.

“The long-distance route from Paris to Beijing is not about speed. Rather, the sporting challenge for the participants is to achieve the
lowest possible consumption on the individual stages and across the overall distance”, said Dr Dieter Zetsche, chairman of the DaimlerChrysler AG board and head of the Mercedes Car Group.
The route of the Paris-Beijing E-Class Experience passes through France, Germany, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Russia and
Kazakhstan, to China.
The event has been particularly challenging not only because of extreme temperatures, ice, snow, dust and mud, but also the short hours of daylight. Tackling the daily stages of up to 750km under unusual traffic conditions, and crossing passes at altitudes of up to 2,900m requires concentration, experience and fitness.
In a reverse re-run of the original long-distance route of 1907, the drivers will cover five stages, each stretching between 1,750km and 3,550km. These include international journalists, VIPs and celebrities as well as participants selected from more than 50,000 Internet applications.
The first stage (Oct 21-27) took participants over approximately 3,400km from Paris to Stuttgart, Berlin and Warsaw as well as the Baltic capitals of Vilnius, Riga and Tallinn to finish in St Petersburg, Russia.
The next batch took over for the second sector (Oct 28-Nov 1; 2,700km) that leads to Yekaterinburg, Russia.
On this stage, one of just two Malaysians invited to take part in this event was automotive website editor and freelance writer Y.S. Khong, 55, better known for being a Malaysian rally champion four times in the 1980s.

“It was very, very cold … days were short and it got dark early, and there was plenty of snow, ice, more snow, more ice, and yet more snow,” Khong recalled from his first experience of the notorious Russian winter.
“The roads were very slippery, and we could see many local cars and trucks that had come to grief in the ditches by the roadside. Even though the Mercedes has an excellent traction control system, the tail will wag if you accelerate too hard.”
The third stage (Nov 3-6; 3,100km) crossed into Kazakhstan and ended at Almaty, the country’s old capital. From Almaty, the fourth stage (Nov 8 to today; 3,100km) takes the convoy into Western China and ends at Lanzhou.
On Nov 17, four days and 1,750km after setting off from Lanzhou and travelling through the valley of the Yellow River, crossing the outer reaches of the Gobi desert and the grass pastures of Inner Mongolia, the drivers are expected to reach the finishing post for this remarkable long-distance drive: the Yongding Gate in the centre of Beijing.

'Twas a good year ... 2008

You know it's gonna be wet ...

I cannot speak for the rest of the world but 2008 was a good year for me. I got to tick off several boxes on my to-do list, including driving a topless Lamborghini through the hills of Bologna and bit of backpacking in Italy, all without any work involved.
But the highlights came towards the end of the year, when I got to indulge to the max in my passion — 4X4 adventure.
There was a bit of worry, initially. It looked like nature was going to pour cold water on my plans to enjoy Sabah's famous Borneo Safari, with a weather alert warning of heavy rainfall towards the end of October.
The expected deluge might cause ''flash floods and mudslides in low-lying areas and river banks'', the met boys warned, in ''Sabah's coastal areas and the interior''. (Call me an alarmist but wouldn't that description cover the WHOLE state?)
This was to be a homecoming of sorts for me because I had lived in Sabah for several years in the early 1990s, and the 1992 edition of the Borneo Safari was my induction into the world of hardcore 4X4 (followed by the inimitable Camel Trophy of 1993).
In this hobby of ''challenging nature'', rain means tough trail conditions. But that's regarded as a promise, not a threat. It is something to welcome, not to dread.

The one and only Camel Trophy, Sabah 1993.

But, there can also easily be too much of a good thing. Memories are still fresh of the watery disaster of 2007 edition of the Malaysian Rainforest Challenge in Terengganu, forcing participants to abandon nearly 50 vehicles to the rising waters and flee in rescue boats sent in by the authorities.
When our small contingent from the peninsula, comprising journalists, photographers and representatives of Borneo Safari media sponsor, Isuzu Malaysia, arrived at Kota Kinabalu, it looked as if the gloomy outlook was justified.
The sky was a sullen grey and, according to our hosts from the Kinabalu Four Wheel Drive Club (KFWDC), it had been raining continuously for the past several days. Yup, the 18th Borneo Safari was going to be fun.
Sabah delivered on its promise, serving up mud galore. For the first two days and nights, it was either raining, drizzling or about to pour again.
Anywhere that the chunky tires of heavily-laden 4X4s rolled over, the ground was churned into a greyish mush. Driving was a challenge, and simply walking anywhere was an ordeal that required placing one foot in front of the other, gingerly.
Every piece of kit — shirts, shorts, hats, socks, bags, camp cots — got wet. And we hadn't even gone into the jungle proper yet!
Finally, the sun shone weakly through the clouds on the morning of

''Co-drivers forward with tools.''

Day Three, and not a moment too soon, for the hard part of the eight-day expedition was about to begin.
Only a few minutes had elapsed after I put ''my'' Isuzu D-Max (affectionately dubbed The Monster) in gear when the two-way radio crackled to life. ''Co-drivers forward with tools.'' We hadn't even cleared the camp site and the front of the kilometre-long convoy had already run into an obstacle!
Thankfully, the sun was shining warmly by now but the previous days' rain had dumped part of a hillside across the track. The medium-sized landslide was not a problem, just a challenge — this is, after all, the Borneo Safari.
With willing limbs and strong backs wielding shovels and hoes, the mess of fallen clay was bashed into a passable — albeit barely — path. Winches would be needed.
When my turn came, the Isuzu's 3.0l common rail diesel was more than up to the task, until it reached a point the tyres had no purchase at all. Out came the winch and recovery kit and, with a bit of grunting and a lot of sweat, we crawled to the crest of the hill.
It was a slow, laborious process that had to be repeated every so often, taking several hours before the entire 120-vehicle convoy made it through. It was going to be a long day. It was going to be a classic Borneo Safari.

Just a couple of kilometres up the trail, another steep, deeply rutted slope slowed progress again and yet again, power was applied, the winch cable came out, and the trek continued.
From then on until the expedition's end, the recovery paraphernalia, including snatch straps, shackles and so on, were no longer stowed away neatly but kept conveniently at hand. Until the next obstacle ... err, challenge.
Over the coming week, it would be a routine all the 300 or so participants would become familiar with — the increased radio traffic signalling an obstacle, the queue, the work, the charge through or up difficult stretches, the recovery, and the journey resuming. Slip, slide, stick, dig, push, pull, winch, then go, and repeat.
One of the most comforting aspects of the Safari is the overwhelming hospitality that Sabahans are justifiably famed for, and the large number of fellow travellers who are either mechanics, workshop owners or otherwise mechanically competent.
Whenever a vehicle breaks some part or gets into some other trouble, there are no worries because help is always at hand, all delivered calmly, with a smile, and without fuss.
Twice, the convoy stayed at the same campsite two nights in a row, giving most of the participants time to relax and dry off their wet stuff while enjoying the exciting spectacle of the competitors in action in the arena of the magnificent Crocker Range.

The perfect finale to a great adventure was the final night's camp along the pristine beach of Kuala Penyu, on Sabah's southwest coast.
With a sublime sunset as backdrop, new and old friends gathered around flickering campfires, beer in hand and sucking on freshly cooked local shells, to swap tales about the trials and triumphs of the past week.
There was still the closing ceremony to come, winners to be announced and prizes to be presented. But I had already made a decision: Yes, I'll clear my calendar for end October, 2009.
A couple of weeks later, with memories of Sabah still fresh and leech bites still itching, I was making tracks to Terengganu for another wet and muddy rendezvous — the Rainforest Challenge 2008, dubbed ''The Unfinished Business''. Truly, my cup runneth over — with rainwater and mud!

Let the lift begin

This blog post is a work in progress. Do check back later if you are interested in how the project to lift a 2012 Land Rover Defender 110 HCPU is coming along, or not.

A custom-made double cardan front propshaft from Bailey Morris Ltd.

A proper mod job begins with an assessment of the problem. What needs to be better? Car too short, or too low? Then make it taller. Simple, no?
Errr, no, it's not that simple. There are choices and decisions to make. Do I do a body lift, or a suspension lift, or both? How much would one, or both, cost? And here's the part that many people leave to the last, but which I believe should be right up there near the top of the list, what problems can I expect with each particular mod?
And, there usually are some problems, it's only a question of whether they are major or minor.
I have faith in the engineers who designed and built the cars I buy. If I did not, it'd be silly of me to buy their products, wouldn't I?
So I have to believe that they've done their homework, and their maths, and dotted their i's and crossed their t's before committing a design to production. Which means anything I do to alter their designs could, and usually would, have consequences.
Sine I am neither engineer nor mechanic myself, that means I have to find out what those consequences are, and ways to work around them. Thank God for the Internet! There's a lot of information out here, it's just a matter of sifting through the chaff to get to the wheat.
So after much research and sifting, the conclusion was that the Land Rover Defender from year 2007 onwards, powered by the Ford-derived TDCI 2.4l engine codenamed 'PUMA' (and 2.2l for later models, from around 2011-2012 onwards), would benefit from a suspension lift like all other off-road 4X4s.
But such a modification comes with risks that are unique to this configuration of car and powertrain.

That bulge in the bonnet is not just for show.

The PUMA engine had to be tilted upwards slightly at the front in order to fit, and the distinctive bonnet with a bulge was also necessary to accommodate the taller engine. So, no, that cool looking bonnet is not just a fashion statement even if many restorers choose to use a copy of it for the older model Defenders.
With the tilt, it means that the front propeller shaft (propshaft) is tilted at a more acute angle where it is joined to the front of the transfer case.
If an extreme lift is applied, the angle of the propshaft can become too acute, to a point where it starts stressing the universal joint, which could lead to vibrations. In the worst case scenario, it could destroy the transfer case. That's not a good thing.
Do note that this caution applies to lifts that exceed two inches or 50mm. Mild lifts of up to 50mm should not pose any problem in most cases. Then again, there are reports that some cars have vibrations after even a mild lift.
Fortunately, there is a solution - replace the front propshaft with one that offers a wider angle of articulation, or better stiil, one with a double cardan joint. Even with this solution, there are options to choose from. Look for a used propshaft that already has a double cardan, like that off a Land Rover Discovery 2, or off ebay, or look for some local propshaft specialist to make up one.
Or, buy one from the many online retailers, especially the UK-based ones who offer many upgrade bits for Land Rovers. I noticed that some of the cheaper (and thus attractive) offerings seemed to be generic propshafts that needed an adaptor flange to fit my Defender. Add the cost of the adaptor, and this option is no longer that cheap.
My search led me ultimately to Bailey Morris Ltd, a company that specialises in making propshafts. Their products are also offered by some online retailers as premium options alongside other cheaper ones.

I may never get a bespoke suit from a Saville Row
 tailor, but Andy the Landy gets this ...

Might as well go direct to the source, I figured, and made email enquiries to them. A few pleasant enquiries and back-and-forth requests for information later, I placed an order and, less than a week later, have the custom-made propshaft in my hands.
At £354 for the shaft and another 100 quid for the freight (by DHL, five days door to door), it's not exactly cheap.
But what price do you place on peace of mind, which is what I'm getting with this bespoke shaft made just for my car (based on the VIN number, which they asked for)?
I have been in situations before where a vehicle breaks down because some critical component has failed, and it always happens in the most inconvenient places. Under such circumstances, I am sure the victims would gladly spend a similar sum, or more, if it would make the problem go away immediately.
Just to be on the safer side, I have also placed an order with Land Rover Malaysia for eight pieces of the proper, original Land Rover-specs nuts so that the new propshaft will be installed with new nuts. At around RM25, not exactly cheap for a few nuts but I'd rather spend this than kick myself later should the old nuts fail in the jungle. I'll be keeping the old ones handy, just in case ...
When it comes to doing modifications, I like to play it safe. Find out what could go wrong, find out the remedies, and take the appropriate steps to PREVENT the problems.
Others may choose to try first, see if problems crop up, then take action. It could be cheaper that way, or more expensive if the problem shows up suddenly and catastrophically. Which way to go, that's your choice.
Soon, there will be other items to source and pay for ... longer springs, shock absorbers, option of cranked trailing arms, caster-corrected radius arms, bigger tyres, etc.
For now, I am satisfied that the transfer case, at least, won't suffer.

By the book ... discard old nuts, fit new ones. Tighten to 47 Newtons.

4WDs are NOT always slow

LIKE all boys aged 14 to 84, I love toys. But, as we grow into men, most of us are beaten into conformity by the harsh realities of working life.
I’ve accepted, albeit reluctantly at first, that I can’t have all the toys I want. I have to be practical. Of late, I’ve even managed to convince myself that I’m no longer interested in things I can’t have.
Now, comfortably ensconced in middle age, middle class suburbia, I find there are not many things worth forsaking a Sunday morning lie-in for.
An invitation to take a Lamborghini for a spin would be one of them, I suppose. (Woohoo!) And not just any Lambo, but the Gallardo Superleggera, no less.
“I hear you’re into 4X4s,” says Marcus Chye, chief operating officer of Lamborghini Kuala Lumpur. “Well, this car has four-wheel-drive.”

Yes, it's four-wheel-drive ...

I took the bait. But first, a quick lesson in Italian and Spanish.
Superleggera is simply Italian for “super lightweight”. (Is it just me or does everyone else also find that most things, especially things automotive, sound so much sexier in Italian? I mean, Bahasa Malaysia’s Palingringan or Hokkien’s Chinkhin just don’t have the same glamorous ring, do they?)
It’s an Italian car but Gallardo is pronounced “ga-yar-dor” because the Spaniards like to bunch two “Ls” together and pronounce it as “y”. Gallardo is a famous breed of Spanish fighting bulls, which matches Lamborghini’s famous emblem. It is also the Spanish word for “striking”, which is certainly an apt description of the car’s looks.
(Music fans will know that Senegalese-American artiste Akon – more from him later – sings about his Lamborghini “ga-lar-dor” in his hit Smack That, but then again, Americans pronounce Porsche as “posh” instead of “porshuh”. Perhaps it’s relevant to talk about German as well since Lamborghini now belongs to Audi, and its CEO is Stephan Winkelmann, which is as German a name as you can get.)

Language class is over, let’s hit the road. A quick press of the accelerator is enough to extract that glorious howl from the engine and pin me to the seat. A couple of seconds later, the bend is coming up fast and the massive carbon-ceramic brakes scrub off just the right amount of speed to take the corner.
Lift off the accelerator, a quick pull on the left paddle, the engine blips to lift the revs, the robot gearbox shifts down a cog and the V10 behind my left ear roars.
The sound is awesome. It’s primal, it’s visceral, it’s glorious, it’s spine tingling. If it doesn’t stir your soul, you don’t have one.
For a shattering impact, forget the proverbial bull in china shop. Try, instead, a Chinaman in a raging bull through the Karak Highway tunnel just after the Genting turn-off. Ten cylinders on song send out a thunderous roar that reverberates through the tunnel like 530 bulls in a stampede.
Yes, on that quiet Sunday morning, the hills of Genting and Bukit Tinggi were alive with the sound of music, a glorious Italian aria that rose and fell … err, okay, I’m getting a bit carried away here.
Lamborghini says the Superleggera has a top speed of 315km/h and some independent testers elsewhere have apparently gone even faster than that; but, on Malaysian public roads with plenty of Sunday drivers around, I didn’t even bother to try going anywhere near its limits.

Yes, they do make serious 4X4s but that's another story.

What makes the Superleggera special is weight – or, more precisely, the lack of it. Using advanced materials and technologies, Lamborghini engineers trimmed the already light standard Gallardo by 100kg, to 1,330kg (empty and without fuel).
Bear in mind this is a super car with a massive 10-cylinder 5.0l engine, and it weighs just 30kg more than a 2.0l Proton Perdana. For a bit more perspective, the Mercedes-Benz SL500 is over half a tonne heavier at 1,845kg.
The engine hood (that’s in the rear, of course) is made of visible carbon fibre and transparent polycarbonate, a type of material that guarantees lightness and shows off the magnificent mid-mounted V10 engine.
The rear diffuser and underbody covering, the rear view mirrors, door panels and the central tunnel’s covering are also made of carbon fibre. The Superleggera has so much carbon in it that it’s almost organic (as in organic chemistry, the study of carbon-containing compounds).
Further reductions in weight were achieved by replacing certain glass surfaces with polycarbonate, and even the windscreen has been made thinner.
At the end of the intensive and expensive weight-loss regime, the Gallardo Lite … drum roll … “needs only 3.8 seconds to go from 0km/h to 100km/h, 0.2 seconds less than the basic model,” according to Lamborghini’s brochure. Huh? Well, at this level, a fraction of a second means a lot, apparently.
For the interior, vast expanses of sensual Alcantara leather cover the entire dashboard as well as one-piece carbon fibre sports seats.
Not many people have driven Lamborghinis but, thanks to Astro’s Discovery Real Time, many know that these exotic Italians are difficult to reverse because rearward vision is virtually non-existent. Surprisingly, the Gallardo gives the driver a pretty good view of the rear, plus there is an optional TV camera that makes it a breeze to back up.

The 390,000 Watts sound system.

Superleggera customers usually don’t pay attention to the audio system since the only aural entertainment that’s ever needed comes from the 390,000watt sound system called the V10.
Less (weight), in this case, adds up to more (money). For 100kg less car, you pay RM300,000 more. The Superleggera is priced at RM2.15mil, compared to your garden variety Gallardo that’s just RM1.85mil.
For that much money, the Superleggera makes you adjust the seat with your own muscle power. Electric motors are heavy, you see.
Back to Akon, who sings, “Wanna jump in my Lamborghini Gallardo….”
Well, the reality is that you don’t jump into a Gallardo, or any Lamborghini, for that matter.
You contort your torso and limbs, carefully and slowly, and execute a manoeuvre that rivals origami in intricacy. You don’t jump out of it either; you unfold yourself out of it.
Driving the Superleggera was an exhilarating experience for sure, but I ended up with a stiff neck and sore knee, just from the unfamiliar exertions needed to get in and out of the car. Having said that, the actual driving position is comfortable, if a bit snug, and the posture is great for spirited motoring.
So, if you’re dreaming of owning one of these toys, buy one before you turn 40. If you think it’ll take longer to gather enough loose change, take up yoga now. Oh, if you’re on the heavy side of 90kg, start dieting too.
Okay, guys, the car’s been returned so stop sending me hate mail and sms messages already. Also, please direct all offers to open doors or carry camera bags, etc, to marcus@ lamborghinikl.com.

The "road" to Mulu

Who said "it's not the destination, it’s the journey”? That sounds like a nice philosophy if you’re into zen and all that mystical stuff. Personally, I think it’s a cop-out, a sorry excuse made up to console oneself when the destination turned out to be one huge, disappointing mistake.
Give me a good journey AND a good destination any time. Give me a trip to Mulu, and give it to me the old-fashioned way, of course.
For the benefit of the uninitiated, that’s the renowned Gunung Mulu National Park in the north-eastern corner of Sarawak, famed for its superlative caves – world’s largest cave chamber, South-East Asia’s longest cave passage, longest cave system, etc.
Twenty years on, memories of my first visit, and what felt like an epic journey then, are still vivid.
From the seaside town of Kuala Baram, about 25km from Miri, I had to take a pre-dawn express boat journey to the small riverside town Marudi, three hours away.
Change over to an open top longboat for another three-hour ride to an even smaller riverside town, Long Lama, where another transfer is required, to an even smaller longboat for the last stretch up the calm Melinau river.

Waiting for the Long Lama ferry.

Today, Mulu has become one of Sarawak’s most popular tourist destinations, thanks to regular flights that deliver visitors almost to the doorsteps of the first-class Royal Mulu Resort and another dozen or so lodgings clustered on the banks of the pristine Melinau river.
When the opportunity to revisit Mulu came up in April 2006, it was the destination that got me excited first.
Then came the offer I couldn’t refuse – it was a Ford Lanun Darat expedition so the trip would not be made either in progressively diminishing boats or Twin Otter aircraft. Instead, we would drive there in a convoy of four-wheel-drive vehicles.
For most of the journey, the Ford Ranger pick-ups and Everest SUVs would travel on a well-used trail from Miri to Long Bedian, a remote settlement of the Kayan tribe.
Just how remote is it? Well, it’s about 125km from Miri, and the natives have e-Bedian (check out www.unimas.my/ebedian) and lots of satellite dishes.
And, when the convoy of 25 or so vehicles finally rolled up at the longhouse after a long, hard and dusty journey, the native women whipped out their snazzy camera phones to snap pictures of the visitors from afar!
The drive to get there had been a gruelling ordeal of dust, bone-jarring bumps and monstrous hills with steep climbs and descents like roller coasters.

The dust was so thick in places that visibility was down to a couple of metres.
For city slickers, there was one thing worse than driving virtually blind – knowing that we were sharing the trails with monster 80-tonne logging trucks that dwarf most of the semi-trailers on peninsular highways.
The long drive to Long Bedian and our overnight rest stop at the nearby Tenyok Rimba community resort had taken the best part of an entire day, and sapped all of our energy.
The locals put on a warm welcome, complete with dancing girls and traditional music but most of us were simply too tired to party for long.
But, as I was to discover the next day, that was the easy part. Next stop, Mulu!
A quick look at the topographic map and a consultation with my trusty GPS showed the objective was less than 50km away. But, that’s in a straight line, and nothing goes anywhere in a straight line in this part of the world.
It turned out to be four-and-a-bit hours of traversing some of the steepest slopes and, at one stretch of around seven kilometres, definitely the bumpiest bit of dirt and stone trail I’ve ever driven across.

There was the added pressure of a deadline. We absolutely had to reach that dot on the map by 1.30pm or else we wouldn’t have enough time to make the last stretch into the national park and still have enough time to return to our camp before nightfall.
Jury-rigged bridges made from a couple of logs, hastily cleared landslides, dizzying heights of hills and plunging depths of valleys were all par for the course, which ended abruptly at the river.
With barely minutes to spare, we had made the rendezvous. There, patiently waiting for us were the boatmen who would ferry us on the final leg of the journey into the national park.
Unfortunately, the tight schedule meant we could not explore the wonders of Mulu at a leisurely pace.

After a short boat ride through a sudden yet typical thunderstorm, we climbed 200 steps up to the gaping mouth of the magnificent Clearwater Cave, South-East Asia’s longest cave passage with over a hundred kilometres surveyed.
Descending deep into the chasm on wobbly legs, I realised that every step downward meant yet another upward step that must be taken on the return trip, and all these steps would lead to the 200 steps back down to the river. So much for “the journey, not the destination”.
Still, there was just enough time for a refreshing dip in the crystal clear lagoon fed by the underwater river flowing out of the cave before heading off for a quick lunch and then back to the vehicles for the long, bumpy drive back to Tenyok Rimba.
More bumps, more dust and mud, many more hours of arduous driving lay ahead before we returned to “civilisation” but when our tyres finally met bitumen, I felt I could say that Lanun Darat #28 had been a tough but enjoyable journey to and from a great destination.

Worms grow big in the highlands!

The point of it all

AS the sound of 18 diesel engines died away for the last time in Casablanca on Oct 7, a wave of relief swept over every member of the Petronas Trans Sahara 2004 expedition. There were also feelings of triumph, and a sense of personal achievement and team accomplishment.
“We made it!” “Well done, you did it!” Congratulations were in order, and everyone went around shaking each other’s hands and patting one another on the back. There were tears of joy, and eager anticipation of the journey home to much-missed loved ones so far away.
Now, safe and sound at home at last, with all the creature comforts and the great Malaysian food that we craved for while out there in the desert, there has been time to reflect on the meaning of life, the universe, and what the whole Sahara experience has been about.
It was one great adventure. For some lucky members of the Petronas Adventure Team (PAT), there will be other places to visit in time to come, but many of us will remember this trip as a once-in-a-lifetime experience that we were fortunate enough to have been a part of.
The Trans Sahara proved to be many things to many people. It was a journey of exploration, a long trek through nations and environments that couldn’t possibly be more different than the lush world that Malaysians know as home.
It was a test for each individual participant, who had to dig deep into his or her reserves to find the patience, the perseverance and the tolerance to put up with all the unexpected trials and tribulations that came along. Some of the challenges included seemingly endless waiting to cross borders, long hours of driving, extreme heat, gritty sand getting into everything, and having to go for days without a bath.

There were always some people you liked and some you did not, but everyone had to learn to get along, for the good of the entire group. When everyone was forced to spend so much time in such close proximity, the strain could blow the smallest misunderstanding out of proportion and spark off tiffs. But, in the end, the close bond forged by the shared experiences won through.
There were happy moments when things were great, when the scenery was dazzling or the mood enchanting, just as there were times when everything that could go wrong did. We all passed the test and, looking back now, the good times far outweighed the bad.
It was an opportunity for Malaysians, as individuals and as a group, to let other cultures know about us even as we were getting to know them. Initially, the curious locals of North Africa always mistook us for Japanese, Koreans or Chinese visitors. But when told that we were Malaysians, the reaction was always one of warm welcome.
Invariably, their faces broke into broad smiles, their thumbs went up and they shouted, “Malaysia very good, very nice people, welcome!” It felt really great to be regarded in such a pleasant light, even if we discovered along the way that such welcoming salutes were often ploys to lure unsuspecting tourists into souvenir shops.
As travel experiences go, a PAT expedition is not really the best way to visit interesting places. All too often, the need to keep to a schedule or having to pick up the pace to make up for lost time meant that we had to bypass many interesting places. While the 39 days allocated for the expedition might seem a long time, it still did not allow for much leisure because the convoy had to cover more than 10,000km, much of it over difficult terrain. There were stretches of the route which required eight hours of driving to cover just over 100km of ground.
While it was understandable that the needs of the whole caravan took precedence over the wishes of individuals, it did often lead to the frustrating feeling that one had travelled so far under such difficult conditions only to whiz past some place of great significance, such as historic battlegrounds like El Alamein and Mersa Matruh in Egypt, or the remnants of ancient Roman settlements in Libya.

The expedition did enable us to see plenty of interesting sights along the way. Even if the experience was often shallow, most of us agreed that it was ultimately better to have had these glimpses, however brief and fleeting, than not to have seen these wonderful places at all. That was another lesson: you can’t have everything your way all the time, so you should enjoy whatever you can get.
In the main, the expedition served to raise Petronas’ profile in the foreign countries where they have joint-venture operations, such as Sudan, Egypt, Algeria and Morocco. Wherever possible, the PAT members took part in community relations projects at local institutions such as children’s hospitals and village vocational centres, which receive support and aid from the Malaysian oil company.
For other sponsors such as Ford Malaysia, which sent along their 4X4 Everest and Ranger vehicles, and Korean tyre-maker Kumho, the gruelling expedition was as an ideal trial by ordeal that proved their products’ toughness and reliability, beyond all doubt. After all, they survived the kind of conditions and abuse the average consumer’s car and tyres would never have to undergo, even in 20 years of normal usage.

Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world ---

FOR those who know Casablanca only through that great movie of the same name, it is a city synonymous with new beginnings. Here, on Thursday, the adventure ended for the Petronas Trans Sahara 2004 expedition, and the 44 participants felt it was an appropriate place to look back on how it all began.
There is now a special bond among us, the kind that only comes from having survived an extended period of trials and tribulations together, as well as the excitement of shared discovery and exploration.
It has been a bumpy ride, literally and figuratively. The journey has taken the Petronas Adventure Team through six North African countries, plus a brief detour through Spain that entailed two overnight ferry rides for the expedition members and their 18 vehicles. Overland border crossings are always a tedious, time-consuming affair involving plenty of paperwork and patience. But serious differences between Algeria and Morocco mean the border is closed, thus making the trips across the Mediterranean Sea necessary.

A Roman fort in Tunisia.

With only a few rare exceptions, each day had begun early and ended late. In between, there were many hours of driving, more often than not over difficult terrain that took a heavy toll on vehicles and occupants alike. The rewards, however, were opportunities to behold numerous natural wonders that few Malaysians have seen before.
Spirits have remained high for most of our journey although there have been the inevitable moments when normally suppressed tensions broke through and tempers flared; and, of course, there was the melancholy as homesickness crept in towards the last few days of the long trek.
Everyone remained in good health for a surprisingly long time, considering the long days spent in the desert, camping without any water other than what had been carried in bottles and jerry cans.
However, just when everyone thought expedition medic Khairuddin Mohd Ali was having a relaxing holiday, the bugs bit with a vengeance. After nearly a month going through countries with ever-present hygiene concerns without major problems, about 90% of the team were hit by food poisoning, which led to severe diarrhoea and some vomiting, shortly after we disembarked in Alicante, a port in Spain – ironically, the cleanest country we had been to thus far. The prime suspect was the orange juice served during breakfast on the boat from Oran, Algeria.
On the morning after, “How are you?” became a question of concern rather than the usual, mechanical greeting. Another greeting frequently heard throughout the hotel corridors was, “How many times did you do it last night?”
Things were looking better as the sun rose over Nador, the Moroccan port where the team returned to in North Africa. But a dozen or so of the team members still looked ashen and less-than-enthusiastic adventurers.
The drive to the historic city of Fez got off to an inauspicious start when the local handler’s Land Rover suffered a broken timing belt barely two hours into the journey up the famous Atlas Mountains. It could not be repaired immediately and had to be left behind in the nearest town.
The Moroccan landscape turned out to be a dramatic and welcome change from the harsh, arid desert we had been passing through earlier. For a start, there was plenty of green everywhere and the silver glint of sunlight reflecting off the leaves on thousands upon thousands of olive trees got the cameras clicking.
The vegetation gradually changed from sparse shrubs to tall pine and spruce trees as we climbed higher, and the temperature fell to a pleasant average of 23°C.

Underground dwellings called 'troglodytes'.

Expectations were high in Fez, but the team was disappointed, mainly because there was not enough time to enjoy the old-world charms of this ancient town’s medina or bazaar. We were herded from one overpriced shop to another by the handler, Azeez, whom everyone suspected was more interested in his commissions from the vendors than our interests.
At no other time had we felt more like the typical tourist – precisely what the expedition did not wish to have happen. Justice was served when the rogue was dismissed and kicked out of the convoy several days later for running off to sleep in a nearby hotel while everyone had to camp in a rocky, dry riverbed.
Things improved somewhat as we set off higher into the mountains for three days of camping. The rocky ground proved tough going and the temperature fell to below 10°C at night. Freezing feet and toes made getting a good night’s sleep difficult, but there was some joy to be found in a roaring campfire.
The scenery was nothing short of spectacular. Most of the Atlas Mountains comprise sedimentary rocks formed in layers over hundreds of millions years. Geological forces have pushed the layers up this way and that, and countless millennia of weathering have exposed the many layers at all angles and shapes, and in many colours.
Our vehicles had to negotiate frighteningly narrow and bumpy tracks that clung precariously to the sides of steep cliffs. This was mountain goat territory, and there were plenty of these hardy animals around to stare at the unfamiliar sight of 4X4 vehicles crawling through their turf.
Traversing a pass took the convoy to nearly 2,700m above sea level, and into yet another amazing landscape which could be called Morocco’s own Grand Canyon. Deep gorges cut by rivers over millions of years have created a scene that resembles different varieties of layer cake (like the popular kuih lapis) in a bewildering array of colours and shapes.
This was also the area where the convoy encountered the phenomenon of rural Moroccan children, who have learned that visitors passing through meant handouts of food and other treats.
When there were only one or two children by the side of the track, giving them a packet of biscuits or some sweets was a pleasure, if only for the satisfaction of seeing the joy on their faces. However, when there were large numbers, they behaved more like an aggressive mob, chasing after and pounding on our moving vehicles. Some even climbed onto the cars and clung on desperately with one hand while using the other to take items by force. Some flung stones at vehicles whose occupants did not meet their demands.
Earlier, many of the expedition members had been anxious to know the local inhabitants better. But passing through the villages soon became a harrowing experience. It was with relief that we drove out of the mountains and into Marrakech, Morocco’s second biggest city and most popular tourist destination.
What joy! No more camping, no more going days without a bath. PAT members may be tough adventurers who enjoy roughing it out, but there comes a point when enough is enough, and everyone is ready to appreciate the creature comforts and niceties of civilisation again. A day of sightseeing and shopping for souvenirs in the huge, vibrant bazaar at Marrakech’s famed medina got everyone cheerful and upbeat again.
As the convoy rolled closer towards the final destination on the final day, many of the expedition members took turns on the two-way radios to address the group, thanking each other for the good times, for the little gestures of kindness that would be remembered forever, and apologising for any offence they might have caused.
There was emotion in the air, mixed feelings of relief because the end was near and we would be going home to loved ones soon. Yet there was sadness at the thought of the impending parting of ways for a motley bunch of people of all ages and walks of life who, for the past six weeks, had been closer than family.
There is always next year’s expedition to look forward to, and it’s a safe bet that everyone will leap at the chance if asked whether he or she would like to “play it again”.

Ya Humar!

Today's lesson in Arabic is the phrase "Ya Humar". It means "You Donkey". Or, "You Ass". On the Trans Sahara, it is a daily award presented to the participant who made the silliest or funniest mistake the previous day.

AS the Petronas Adventure Team (PAT) ticks off the 30th day of the Trans Sahara 2004, the gruelling marathon starts to take its toll on both people and machinery.
Tensions rise – not quite up to boiling point, but it simmers – as homesickness creeps in. The absence of roaming cellular phone services in countries like Algeria and Libya deepens the depression.

It's not all sand ...

The most trivial misunderstandings can spark off tiffs between the closest of friends, but everyone usually makes up and has a hearty laugh over them later.
Cars are beset by more problems day by day. These gremlins test the expedition mechanics’ skill and ingenuity, but pose no major challenges.
In the early days, dawn brought exciting prospects of new places, experiences and landscapes; unusual dwellings and friendly natives, and a dozen or more varieties of sand. As time went by, the novelty wore thin and the 34th new experience was significantly less awe-inspiring than the fourth, and the 67th left you totally unmoved.
Anticipation used to be the order off the day. But now, each kilometre chalked brings joy because it means we are moving closer to the day we’ll return home and see loved ones again.
But these difficulties are an intrinsic part of long overland treks, PAT veterans say. Expedition medic Khairuddin Mohd Ali (call sign Kilo Delta), who modestly admits to having studied psychiatry “only on a superficial level”, notes that mood swings and mild depression are normal when a group of people spend so much time in close proximity, and under stressful conditions. His prescription: Patience, tolerance and a sense of humour.
It also helps that the PAT begins each day with a touch of home; they have a roll call, raise the Jalur Gemilang and sing Negaraku, heartily.
There is usually a light moment with the presentation of the Ya Humar (Arabic for “you donkey”) award to the participant who had committed the silliest or funniest mistake the previous day. Answering a phone call by pressing the two-radio’s microphone to the ear; trying to top up lubricant by pouring oil into the engine’s filler cap instead of the hole; complaining that a car’s air-con is faulty when the thermostat has been switched off; and an avid rock collector picking up dried camel dung thinking they are stones are some of examples of “Ya Humarism”.

An unexpected sight in the desert ...
wreckage of an old Italian biplane.

Messages sent by loved ones at home and well-wishers from all over through the website (www. petronasadventure. com) have been a great boost for morale. Everyone is agog whenever Harun Rahman (Mojo) goes on air with the latest greetings from 10,000km away. So keep them coming, Malaysia.
The vehicles are holding up well, considering the pounding they have been subjected to since being flagged off from Khartoum, Sudan, seemingly an eternity ago. Think about the abrasive quality of sandpaper and you’ll get an idea of what it’s like for finely-machined components to have to cope with wind-blown sand particles of all sizes getting into their every crack and orifice. Other challenges include jammed fuel injectors; dirty fuel or fuel contaminated with water; a broken pulley and alternator; a couple of punctured tyres; and broken engine mounts and roof luggage racks.
The most serious mechanical breakdown to date has been the failure of the automatic gearbox of expedition leader Halim (Echo Lima) Abdul Rahman’s Land Cruiser. It had to be towed 1,200km to a repair facility in Tripoli, Libya. Even then, there were worries about whether replacement parts were available because automatic versions of the vehicle are not sold in Libya. Somehow, the mechanics came through and got it fixed.
Algeria is a beautiful country and the people seem quite friendly. But the government’s security concerns (which, to some PAT members, border on paranoia) has forced the convoy to travel everywhere with ever-alert gendarmes (well-armed paramilitary police) as escorts. Thus our freedom to move around and interact with the locals is restricted.
There is little pleasure in getting up early every day, climbing into our vehicles and driving from one town to the next, without stopping at any of the villages we passed through other than to refuel or pee. We didn’t see much of towns like Ouargla, Ghardaia and Tiaret. Camping is out of the question, and everyone is confined to hotels at night, with policemen toting AK-47s patrolling outside.
However, the PAT participants appreciate the great lengths to which the Algiers government and their security personnel, in particular, went to ensure the safety of everyone.
Since crossing over from Tunisia, the convoy has been greatly aided by Abdul Wahab Arifin (Orang Minyak), a Kelantanese from Tanah Merah, who has been project accountant and the No. 2 man with Petronas Algeria for the past three years. He and his Algerian colleagues have been invaluable in liaising with the local authorities and providing insights into the landmarks and distinctive features of the country he is in.
As the convoy moves north towards the sea, the scenery around us has changed from the oh-so-familiar sand dunes to a gentler, milder Mediterranean landscape. The temperature has dropped progressively from 40°C to 20°C; as night falls, it dips way below that. The air is cold and Arab-style garb is giving way to thicker, warmer clothes as we move into a sunny yet chilly autumn.

The natives are friendly. And armed.

The convoy is heading for the Algerian port city of Oran, where our vehicles will be shipped by ferry to the Spanish port of Alicante. The expedition is forced to make this detour into Europe because the border between Algeria and Morocco is closed, and the only way into our final destination is by sea. It has been a long, often difficult, journey so far, but spirits remain high and optimism reigns.