karkrub

Karkrub story

It was a sun-soaked afternoon in Bangkok. The sky painted a clear blue, and the traffic was, well, typically congested. As we trudged along in our family van, I kept myself entertained by watching scooters zip past us, imagining them as characters from my favorite video game.

Just as we were approaching a massive intersection, a scene made me sit bolt upright. My eyes widened as I spotted it: a pristine Toyota Land Cruiser FJ55. It stood out in the bustling Bangkok traffic like an elephant amidst a herd of zebras. Its gleaming paint reflected the sunlight, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

“Uncle Ake taught me about that car!” I exclaimed, pointing it out to my family. My father, always calm and collected, was mildly interested, but my younger sister, Pim, groaned, “Not another car story, please!”

However, it was my mother’s reaction that was the most priceless. She looked at the Land Cruiser and then at the ice cream vendor on the sidewalk. “Oh! It looks like the same color as coconut ice cream!” she chuckled, drawing a roar of laughter from everyone, except me. I was too transfixed.

I urgently tapped my dad’s shoulder. “Dad, take a picture! Uncle Ake would love it!” As Dad fumbled with his old camera phone, I thought of all the times Uncle Ake had regaled me with tales of classic cars. The FJ55 was one of his favorites, often described as the “Iron Pig” due to its distinctive snout and robust appearance.

The Land Cruiser slowly rolled alongside us. I caught a glimpse of the Thai family inside, laughing and singing, utterly unaware of my excitement. As they drove past, their youngest child waved at me, a broad grin plastered across his face, as if he knew the joy his family’s vintage vehicle brought me.

Miraculously, Dad managed to snap a picture just in time. It wasn’t perfect; the top half of the FJ55 was obscured by a passing tuk-tuk adorned with colorful flags. But it captured the essence, and that was enough.

Later that evening, as we enjoyed a family meal by the Chao Phraya River, I couldn’t help but bring up the Land Cruiser again. “Did you know, that car was produced between 1967 and 1980?” I started, my excitement evident.

Uncle Ake had taught me well. His stories of car adventures were legendary in our family, often filled with humor and improbable events, like the time he tried to fit a sofa in the back of a tiny Mazda, or when he claimed he outran a hungry monkey in a vintage Ford.

My dad laughed, reminiscing about the day’s events, “You and your cars! Thanks to you, I now have a photo of a half-covered Land Cruiser and a tuk-tuk’s rear end!”

Mom added with a playful smirk, “And don’t forget, it’s coconut ice cream-colored!”

The sun set, casting a golden hue over the river. As I looked at the photo on Dad’s phone again, I felt a surge of gratitude. It was just an ordinary day, with the usual family banter and the typical Bangkok traffic. Yet, it was special.

The Land Cruiser spotting became an inside joke in our family, reminding us of that delightful day. Every time I looked at the photograph, I was transported back to that sunny afternoon, filled with laughter, love, and a classic car that was the same shade as coconut ice cream.

And as the days turned into months and months into years, that photo remained a symbol. A symbol of simple joys, shared memories, and the beauty of spotting something extraordinary in the ordinary.

To this day, I can’t eat coconut ice cream without thinking of the FJ55. And every time Uncle Ake visits, I regale him with the tale of how I spotted the “Iron Pig” in Bangkok, making him laugh with our family’s humorous additions to his beloved car story. After all, isn’t that what family is all about? Sharing stories, making memories, and cherishing the little moments that bring us closer together.