Epilogue: Goodnight Catbus

Goodnight, Catbus.

When you next wake up, we would be back in Singapore 6,508km away.  That's only slightly more than twice the distance that we travelled together, so it's not all that much.  And when you do, you might have a fresh coat of paint and would have been patched up in a somewhat slipshod and adhoc manner.  You might be named Daisy or some other wittier name, and by all chances, not Catbus.   The cheshire cat grin would probably be gone too.

Catbus makes it across the finishing line

It's a good and deep sleep that you have earned, having carried us 2,600km from the start to finish.  We've traversed pothole laden and rocky gravel tracks, beach sand, lumbered across numerous bridges, and struggled up so many mountain slopes together.  We've seen you carried across rivers on ferries and physically pushed you here and abouts. Despite all that, you were only marginally cranky every morning.

Catbus receives the princess treatment at Pokaran Fort

We will remember you and all of your idiosyncrasies.  Like how you adamantly refuse to start every cold morning, and will only be coaxed out of your nap after all of us and the whole surrounding village has had a go cranking your starter.  Why were you never born with an electric starter?  My left bicep continually bemoans the fact.  And even after you do rise from your nap, how irate you'll be until you've had a good stretch of your legs.  We did learn that the hard way, when you left us stranded in the middle of a crowded city 4 way junction in Navi Mumbai and refused to fire up.  Never again will we have the experience of pushing a vehicle through a swarm of traffic nipping at our heels and around, beside, and in-front of us.

We're sorry, Singapore, all that's left of our proud flag is the flag post

From the back seat, Jik and Wen will remember the the sharp screws and metal pieces you have scattered in your innards.  Like the one that tore my weatherproof duffel bag and Jik's pants in shreds and had to be subdued in a flurry of gaudily coloured duct tape and plastic bits.

Jik's favourite screw flies free

It is free, no more.

Other choice unforgettable features would include the tassels that Wen bought to beautify you with.  Truly deserving of being a Catbus, you bite and you scratch.  We had to subdue them too after many attempts at taking out Jik's eyesight.  They were a delight floating in the wind, until they floated into your face.  You can guess where we chose to harvest our repair parts from in the photo above.

Not the best way of hanging decorative tassles

Token drum and fuel tank

You were infused with petroleum goodness from jerry cans that we made you bear.  And credit to us, we've never let you run yourself flat out of petrol despite not having a fuel gauge and a somewhat inaccurate odometer.  Most trips were spent with our heads in a miasma of petrol fumes.  It's no wonder that the backseat gang was often flat out and concussed.  To the end, despite our optimisations, you were as greedy as before.  Where did all that fuel go?  was probably the most common verbalised question in the morning when we were doing our pre-trip top-ups.  The drum ended up relocated right in front of the steering so that I could fulfill my roles of Chief Motorcyclist and Chief Drummer all at the same time.

Water bottle storage gutter

We fashioned a water-bottle storage centre in what little space we could make right behind the driver's seat.  It started being an important source of rehydration, and ended up as a make-do rubbish dump and functioned mainly in making crackling noises whenever my buttock gently caressed our little collection whenever we accelerated sharply.  The orange water-bottle holder on the far right developed the habit of flipping the other way and flapping out of the rickshaw.  It was the holder that was guilty of swiping the scooter side mirror in Udaipur in that tiny alley, not me or my driving skills.  (Sorry, scooter owner, traffic did not allow us to stop to apologise or even slow down any.)

Catbus dusting device

We will similarly miss all the creature comforts that you offered; all that modern technology has to offer.  The rolled up newspaper we never read from day one eventually became the Catbus internal dusting system and worked by transferring kinetic energy when forcefully wielded against dusty surfaces into loud FHWAP FHWAP noises and a cloud of dust.  The Version 2 upgrade came as a brown rag donated by a nearby Tuktuk driver who was frustrated watching us trying to wipe the windscreen in futility with tissue paper.  It becamer browner.

Your GPS system was trusty and worked even when the engine and battery were dead.  It always pointed us the right way ("Just go north!"), even when the Indian Guy Pointing System pointed in seemingly arbitrary directions ("Go left...then go right").

Tuktuk GPS system

Your garang guni horn entertained children throughout India, and saved the lives of a random collection of animals.  It was, as with all things, also held in place with duct tape.  It became critical eventually, being a power-failure safe device.  As a little joke, you could either have your foglights turned on, or the horn.  Our initial nights driving were spent with meagre lights somewhat-ablazing, in a flurry of garang guni horns.  Eventually, we learnt the ways of the Indian roads.  Horns above all, and the garang guni horn was reduced to entertaining children again. 

Catbus intervehicle communications system

We have to apologise for leaving a screwdriver in your  innards.  Your throttle attachment would not stay un-floppy, likely as it was completely broken, and we could not think of a better solution than to splint it with a screwdriver.  Attached, of course, with duct tape (see a trend here?)  We should have fixed it better, but we were too cheap and left it there for the rest of our journeys.  Your Jodhpur mechanic seemed to approve, so it must be good enough.  He had thrown open the engine bay, pointed to it and chortled, "this good!"  I'm not arguing with a professional.

A functional but strangely aesthetically un-pleasing repair job, featuring more yellow duct tape.

There are uncountable other things that we will always remember about you.   How your front wheel usually ends up pointing right when the steering was left, how your suspension really did not immunise us from all but the slightest up-swelling on the road, how your tyres continually leaked air and had to be topped up every few days.  Your wipers never did work very well unless we were charging on at full throttle, and even then, they would either wipe the left side of the windscreen, or the right, but never both.  And how can we forget how your exhaust was left dangling by a single bolt after the nut from the other side simply dropped off.  

The Third Wheel, post trip

These aren't the most important though.  We will always remember the countless roads and highways you brought us down, the small towns and villages.  We will remember the smiling faces we pass as we beeped our garang guni horns down the road, or those tucked at the back of overladen vehicles.  All the hot barmy days that blended into crazy adrenaline packed nights, then transited into a biting winter chill up north.  We will remember all the adventures you brought us through day in and out, and all the beautiful places, indefatigably.  We will miss the days when our main worry was whether you would start in the morning and last through the day.  You were bonejarringly tough to ride day in and out, and sometimes slower than walking pace uphill.  Yet, you've never let us down.  

True to your name, you've managed to take us to any destination that we desire, even when we don't know how to get there.  Remember Jodhpur, when we were haphazardly driving about with random directions from strangers and somehow you brought us to the exact spot and mechanic we were looking for?

So, goodnight, Catbus.  You've truly earned your slumber this time.  No one will be waking you up in the chilly mornings for 12 hour drives for the next few weeks.  Rest well.  When you next wake up, you will have new friends to play with, a new paintjob, and many new adventures to look forward to.  

We all hope you take as good care of them as you did with us.  

Saying goodbye to Catbus

Yinghao

Chief Mechanic

https://give.asia/movement/rickshaw_run_-_driving_for_charity

"The Catbus is seemingly able to take its passengers to any destination they desire, even if the passenger (or the bus itself) lacks the knowledge how to get there...""