Hello, dear readers, to a weekly column by yours truly about anything and everything under the sun. But only if the sun shines of things that have two to four wheels, involves motoring in general and the sometimes facepalm moments of being a motoring journalist. I’m not trying to be funny here, so I apologize in advance for causing any unintentional mirth. This is serious business of a business that’s serious.

So, at the risk of this becoming a rant column…

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#kosongkosong. You’ve probably seen it when you switched on your TV and listened to your radio. You’d have also spotted it on our Facebook page, last year and this year. While it may seem self-explanatory to me, there are some who do not quite grasp the meaning of it. I was inches way from dropping the ‘are you serious you don’t understand what it means’ look before realizing that they are not bombarded by the same corporate propaganda I am exposed to everyday. And if I seriously think about it, what does #kosongkosong really mean?

The main message that #kosongkosong is conveying is really quite simple – it is all about forgive and forget. So if someone close does something that hurts you, and that someone is sorry, the only recourse is to forgive and move on. Don’t dwell on the past. But like everything else, it is easy to say it but to put it into practice is an entirely different ball game. Especially when you've been slighted to bad that the only thing that will satisfy you is to take revenge; teach that stupid dumb f**k a friggin lesson he won’t soon forget.

And so you accelerate, drive dangerously and cut off other innocent vehicles just to get close, often putting the innocent in the line of fire. You're angry, you drive faster but every time you get close, there’s a slower car that’s blocking you. Is that car really blocking? You and that slower car are in the left lane after all. You curse, loudly this time, spot a gap in between cars; a gap that’s just enough to slip in. Which you do, you hear honking from somewhere followed by tyre screeching from somewhere but who cares — you are one car away from that @$$ that seemingly cut you off. 

You pull up beside him, finally. You wind down your window, shout curses and expletives, and show him a good measure of the middle middle finger. Him, his wife, his children… you carpet bomb the entire family with your middle finger. Satisfied, you zoom off, muttering under your breath but there’s a sense of satisfaction from getting it off your chest. 

You reach home, your parents greet you at the door. You give your mother a kiss on the cheek with the same lips that just hours ago, wished that the family in the other car die in a horrific car crash. The hand you shake your father and brothers is the same that you used to gesture rudely at the toddler in the back seat of that car.

That night, you log on to Facebook to check out the day’s happenings — you have been on the road long and it’s dangerous to use the phone while driving. You scroll down, looking for something interesting. You spot one, a shared video of an accident that happened on the highway. The description that precedes states that the front car, a compact hatchback, was rear-ended by an MPV. Everyone in the MPV was safe, but the crash was bad enough ensure that the MPV is not going anywhere. The people in the compact hatch didn’t fare well. The front passengers survived but their seven-year old son and three-year old daughter didn’t. 

You click the video, apparently taken from the MPV’s on-board camera. It shows the moment of the accident — both vehicles are on the middle lane, driving, when suddenly another car cut in front of the compact hatch, whose driver hit the brakes hard, but the MPV couldn’t stop in time. The video shakes, then pans up, then pans down. The compact hatch is now more compact, you thought. 

The video continues, slowly, this time zooming in on the car that drove dangerously. You recognise the car, the colour, the number plate. It’s yours.

You start to shake, realising that you are the cause of death of two children. Your mind goes empty one moment, then races with thoughts that paint you with an innocent light. Yes, you tell yourself that him braking hard isn't your fault, he just a horrible driver. You look up from your phone, distracted by the lights that’s flashing outside your house. It’s flashing blue. Then a knock on your door…

Now imagine if you’ve exercised some patience instead. You’re angry for the way you were cut off, but it’s OK, he’s probably in a rush. #kosongkosong. Empty that rage and focus on getting home, drive safe, be patient… it is a holidays after all. #kosongkosong.