Once upon a time, I was crazy enough to follow my first cycling group, MADCAT, everywhere.
Every weekend from Iskandar to Kukup, Kota Tinggi to Serdenak. You name it, I was there.

Never, ever trust how a cyclist looks.

The fat one with short legs?
Don’t laugh. He’s the silent killer.
Looks like he’s struggling to start.
Next moment, gone.

Then got the skinny one.
Looks like drug addict on a fixie.
You think he will faint halfway?
He’ll overtake you, humming “You can do it.”

And the MTB guy.
Always say, “Just join road ride for fun lah.”
He ends up riding side by side with carbon-wheel abang-abang to Kukup.

Once, I tried to beat a steel bike rider.
That old heavy frame.
He smoked everyone like a national racer.

I realised cycling is not about stamina.
It’s about acting.
And the best cyclists are TVB award winners.

After MCO, I rejoined MADCAT.
Many years never ride with them
I told myself, “Hill only. Serdenak climb. Can one. Many years ago i rided side by side with them”

I was wrong.

Halfway up on FIRST climb,
lungs burning.
Legs crying.

Suddenly, bye-bye peloton.
No shadow. No mercy. No friends.
Only me, my bike, and my suffering.

By the time I reached the meeting point,
they already finished kopi O and roti bakar.
That was the moment I accepted the truth.
I am old dying uncle aka 🐢.

Looking back my time with MADCAt, I smile.
Cycling hurts. But it heals too.
Every ride gives me a story to tell.
And a reason to keep pedalling.

To my MADCAT brothers who always lead the pack, I salute you.
Once, I led the peloton at 39.9 km/h for 9.9 seconds on Gunung Pulai straight road.
My proudest record.

Because in cycling, everyone acts strong.
But the road never lies.