Eighty-Eight Miles Per Hour is Approximately 140 Kilometers Per Hour...

...which was roughly the speed of the car in front of me but, instead of kicking in the flux capacitor sending the car back to the future, it flew directly into a billboard.

I was on my way back to the Hub from my parents house. They were away for the weekend so I figured I'd sleep in the Hub since I had a meeting nearby the next day. As I was driving past Plaza Damansara and getting on the road leading to Taman Tun a dark red hatchback was speeding behind me (can't remember whether it was a Renault or a Peugeot, but one of those) and heading my way.

Now when I say it was heading my way, I don't mean it was heading in the same direction. It was literally heading towards me, my car, at 140 km/h and was not changing course, so much so that I swerved out of the way in order to avoid an accident and, from the looks of the line the guy made after passing me, would probably have turned out to be an accident and a fatal one at that.

The dark red hatchback turned down the toll free path which has a few traffic lights which probably explained why, as I was nearing Taman Tun, I saw the same car whiz past me again, this time with a light grey car behind it, tailgating it. I may be wrong, maybe it wasn't the same car, but the color, shape and erratic driving at high speeds made it seem exactly like the car that I narrowly avoided a collision with.

I watched this dark red hatchback zoom off in front of me, passing the Caltex, and I remember thinking to myself something along the lines of,

"You keep driving like that and you're just asking for an accident to happen."

A few seconds later, I heard a bang. As the red hatchback passed by the exit to the Damansara Specialist Hospital the driver hadn't noticed that the road was not straight but curved to the right and drove straight into the curb which, at that speed, propelled it upwards into the billboard, crumbling both the large advertisement and the dark red hatchback as it slammed into the wall behind it.

It took a few moments to register and by the time it did I was already passed it and couldn't feasibly turn back. I watched from the rear view mirror as the driver of the light grey car rushed out towards the dark red hatchback... with a walkie-talkie. Why was he on a walkie-talkie? Who was he walkie-talkie-ing too?

At the same time another car that was also pulled over to the side had also stopped, but not slowly like a curious bystander interested in gawking and getting down the license plate but braked quickly in an emergency stop at the side of the road and four people rushed out to the car as if they knew the guy.

What was going on?

I had already turned the road and no longer had any sight of the crash but my mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened - who were these people? Why did the guy have a walkie-talkie? How spooky is it that it happened just a few seconds after I thought to myself that the car would have an accident? What if I hadn't swerved out of the way when I first saw the car?

I have seen a lot of people drive way too fast down that stretch and I have also seen the aftermath of many accidents there, around the same corner. I know a few people who enjoy driving fast or aspire to race but I also know these people to drive safely.

I hope all of you who read this do the same. 'Cos there's a lot of people out there that don't.

So This Is How It Ends.

One can only hold on to hope for so long. Hope for things to get better, hope for things to progress, hope for reciprocation, hope for the future, whatever. One can hope and dream that maybe, just maybe, things will work out. One hopes, and holds on to that hope till the questions are answered and one finds out whether or not it's the answer one was hoping for.

It's like an incredibly long hand of Texas poker - huge, repetitious, arduous and stretched out bets that take forever before the next card is turned, and all you've got is a Jack high. Not big enough to warrant such a risky bet, but enough to make you at least think you have a fighting chance. But it's a risk. A huge risk and the only outcome in this game is to either win the entire pot or lose everything.

The river card was finally dealt tonight and before it turned I had a hundred and one opportunities to fold and I didn't. I didn't because it felt good. I didn't because I really wanted to win that pot. I didn't even though I knew all the odds were against me because I'd rather take that chance, no matter how slight, than risk never making the bet in the first place.

The river card was dealt, and I was left with what I'd started with - Jack.

I'd played this game before and though the bets were bigger then and the chances of winning were at least a little bit higher I wasn't playing the cards I was dealt with right. Not one bit. And I had some good cards at the best of times. But I raised when I should've folded and folded when I should've stayed in. I never went all in like I did this time, just slowly lost my chips and left confused and upset, wondering how I could've played those hands so stupidly.

This time I only had enough for one bet. One big bet. So I went all in. And whilst the turning of each card took forever and the rest of the players took their time to keep on raising I sat there and waited with my Jack high. I only had one chance and I only had one bet and I went all in on the same game I'd lost before for being reckless.

Some would say I hadn't learnt my lesson from the last game. Many would question my actions, pointing out it's a big risk. But here's the thing - I had learnt my lesson from the last game, in a way that only life knows how to teach you. Yes, it was a big risk. A huge risk, with just a Jack of Hearts as my highest card, not much to bet with but going all in anyway. But this time it was a risk I was willing to take and went all in knowing full well the consequences of losing the hand. This wasn't like last time, when I had no idea how much I was actually losing till the chips were all gone. This was, in retrospect, relatively simple:

This is the hand life has dealt me. It's not much, but I'm not folding.

And I lost. I lost big time. I found myself at the table with my Jack of Hearts and watching all my chips disappear. And though I lost the hand in a move that I had never calculated nor foreseen would happen, I knew there was the risk of losing it all.

I went all in and I lost. And it's very upsetting. It hurts deeply. It fills me with sadness and rage and loss and pain... but unlike last time, I am not filled with regret.

I had lost before. Lost in a way that would keep any ordinary person as far from that table as possible. But I picked myself up, slowly garnered as many chips as I could, straightened my tie, sat on that same table and ante'd up again. I knew the risks involved. I knew there was a chance of losing, especially with just a Jack of Hearts, but I ante'd up when others wouldn't have even stepped back up and I went all in because I knew that if I didn't I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it. I would have spent the rest of my days wondering "what if", no matter how much better my life could have been if I didn't go back to that same table and played the same game.

I went back to that table because it was worth it, regardless of what anyone else says. It was worth it. And if I had won I would have been the happiest man alive and I don't regret for one second taking that chance to be that man.

Like I said, it hurts. I wish it didn't. I wish that, with all the knowledge I had and the lessons learnt from the last game that it wouldn't hurt, but it does. But it hurts more to regret not taking that chance. To be bombarded with thoughts of what the outcome could've been.

The table's now closed, and I don't know if it'll open up again. If it does and I've got enough chips and the mood and circumstance is right, I may take that chance once again. Because it's worth it, even if the dealer doesn't think so.

I went all in with a Jack of Hearts and lost. And this is how it ends.