The boxer engine sits behind me, burbling, idling. I am waiting for a group of tourists to complete their journey to the other side of this zebra crossing when suddenly a girl, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties, I'm horrible at guessing ages, pull out her point-and-shoot and started clicking.
The camera starts flashing in small bursts before going for the big all-out explosion of light. And then one more time, from another angle. She smiles and waves, I smile back and return her wave. The exchange is leaving me dumbfounded.
It is, of course, not an ego booster because I do know what I am not the main subject of the sudden photography project. After all, I am no where close to becoming a celebrity; Malaysian journalists rarely do become one. But the car I am driving is a star in its own right.
Continue reading to find out more about the car I'm driving.
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