Or so to speak. buahaha Anyway, here's an extract from The Star online. *deep breath* sigh... whatever la. I thought I'd post this for your reading pleasure.
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Monday October 23, 2006
Rempit journey to adulthood
The “hell-rider” antics of the Mat Rempit have drawn public ire. But theirs is a highly misunderstood subculture, writes SUHAINI AZNAM.
WITH the wind in their faces and adrenalin pumping in their blood, the Mat Rempit race down the half-lit open road. There they are king.
But to fellow motorists, theirs is a reign of terror.
At first, however, the casualties were confined to their own – deaths, skirmishes and a gangland knifing or two.
Then on Oct 8, a group of Mat Rempit went on a rampage in Bangsar, smashing the windscreens of cars parked along Jalan Medang Serai after a resident yelled at them for making noise in the wee hours of the morning.
Two days later, a three-year-old boy was killed by a Mat Rempit while crossing the road in Kota Baru.
On Oct 15, a band of 20 threw stones at the Kubang Semang police station near Bukit Mertajam, protesting the arrest of two comrades.
Since then they have gone from public nuisance to outright menace. Irate individuals have inundated newspapers with complaints, urging an immediate crackdown.
Because of the fluid nature of the “sport,” the number of Mat Rempit is unknown.
In Kuala Lumpur, police arrests under the Road Transport Act for reckless and dangerous driving ran into mere hundreds.
Many suggestions have been tossed up, from Putera Umno’s attempts to gather 50,000 of them in an ill-disguised recruitment drive to threats of arrest and confiscation of their motorcycles from the Cabinet.
The Youth and Sports Ministry's latest suggestion is to register them, so as to provide them with legal races, with an assurance that their identities will be kept confidential.
“I wouldn’t want to register,” said Faisal Ibrahim (not his real name), 29, a self-confessed former Mat Rempit from Muar.
“Why should any Mat Rempit register, especially with a government body?”
The Mat Rempit have their own story. In fact, according to Faisal, the term Mat Rempit today is a misnomer.
Those whom the public normally call Mat Rempit are actually just bikers travelling together in a herd – for want of a better term they are “Mat Konvoy.”
The real Mat Rempit are racers. Their track is usually between 1km and 2km along a straight road with little traffic. For that reason, they usually race at night, sending “runners” out to check before each race.
Newly-tarred roads are ideal. And the most dangerous. Many Mat Rempit have suffered serious injuries on fresh asphalt, recalled Faisal.
Being Mat Rempit is very much a “guy thing” – a flexing of machismo muscle. But it is a hobby, not a full-time job. By day, some are students, clerks or factory workers.
In the world of Malay youths, being a Mat Rempit is glamorous.
When Bukit Aman’s traffic division tried to “whip sense” into youths at a forum on illegal racing in September, it backfired. The youths cheered on the former Mat Rempit guest speaker instead.
The movie Remp-It raked in RM4mil in its first five weeks of screening.
Mat Rempit are by definition anti-establishment. Usually in their mid-20s and below, they still rely on peer support and have not struck out as individuals.
They are essentially Malay youths seeking to release nervous energy. It is a cheap form of escapism from stress at work or home.
The daredevils among them start young, perhaps as early as 15, usually to test a brother’s bike. They peak at 17 and 18, by then owning their own machines. Most would have given up in their 20s; a 30-year-old is considered over the hill.
The real racers do not indulge in “action” stunts and wheelies, said Faisal. At most, a racer would “baring macam Superman (stretch out like Superman) to cut down on wind resistance.”
If races were organised, Mat Rempit fear that traffic police will conduct spot checks upon the bikers leaving the scene.
“Somehow they will be there!” said Faisal. “They will check identity cards, check to see if the racers have ‘hot’ bikes.”
There is also a strong sense of territoriality among Mat Rempit. If an “outsider” comes into their turf “swaggering on his bike,” a group of local boys will surround him and ask him his business.
Then they will challenge him to a race.
Bets could be from as low as RM100 and go up to RM1,000.
In the cities, drugs are involved and a bohsiais sometimes offered as the prize.
Faisal added that accidents with other motorists did occur but these were rare.
“Usually bikers stop racing because of a traumatic accident, either involving themselves or a friend,” said Faisal. “It touches the conscience.”
The best solution, as Faisal sees it, is to allow youths to use one of the existing racetracks like Sepang once a fortnight or month.
“The youths can just come and race for free. But there must be no registration,” he stressed.
In the limbo between adolescence and adulthood, these youths are making a statement.
It is a passing phase which they will outgrow. The problem is, as they leave the scene, their younger brothers take their place.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Monday October 23, 2006
Rempit journey to adulthood
The “hell-rider” antics of the Mat Rempit have drawn public ire. But theirs is a highly misunderstood subculture, writes SUHAINI AZNAM.
WITH the wind in their faces and adrenalin pumping in their blood, the Mat Rempit race down the half-lit open road. There they are king.
But to fellow motorists, theirs is a reign of terror.
At first, however, the casualties were confined to their own – deaths, skirmishes and a gangland knifing or two.
Then on Oct 8, a group of Mat Rempit went on a rampage in Bangsar, smashing the windscreens of cars parked along Jalan Medang Serai after a resident yelled at them for making noise in the wee hours of the morning.
Two days later, a three-year-old boy was killed by a Mat Rempit while crossing the road in Kota Baru.
On Oct 15, a band of 20 threw stones at the Kubang Semang police station near Bukit Mertajam, protesting the arrest of two comrades.
Since then they have gone from public nuisance to outright menace. Irate individuals have inundated newspapers with complaints, urging an immediate crackdown.
Because of the fluid nature of the “sport,” the number of Mat Rempit is unknown.
In Kuala Lumpur, police arrests under the Road Transport Act for reckless and dangerous driving ran into mere hundreds.
Many suggestions have been tossed up, from Putera Umno’s attempts to gather 50,000 of them in an ill-disguised recruitment drive to threats of arrest and confiscation of their motorcycles from the Cabinet.
The Youth and Sports Ministry's latest suggestion is to register them, so as to provide them with legal races, with an assurance that their identities will be kept confidential.
“I wouldn’t want to register,” said Faisal Ibrahim (not his real name), 29, a self-confessed former Mat Rempit from Muar.
“Why should any Mat Rempit register, especially with a government body?”
The Mat Rempit have their own story. In fact, according to Faisal, the term Mat Rempit today is a misnomer.
Those whom the public normally call Mat Rempit are actually just bikers travelling together in a herd – for want of a better term they are “Mat Konvoy.”
The real Mat Rempit are racers. Their track is usually between 1km and 2km along a straight road with little traffic. For that reason, they usually race at night, sending “runners” out to check before each race.
Newly-tarred roads are ideal. And the most dangerous. Many Mat Rempit have suffered serious injuries on fresh asphalt, recalled Faisal.
Being Mat Rempit is very much a “guy thing” – a flexing of machismo muscle. But it is a hobby, not a full-time job. By day, some are students, clerks or factory workers.
In the world of Malay youths, being a Mat Rempit is glamorous.
When Bukit Aman’s traffic division tried to “whip sense” into youths at a forum on illegal racing in September, it backfired. The youths cheered on the former Mat Rempit guest speaker instead.
The movie Remp-It raked in RM4mil in its first five weeks of screening.
Mat Rempit are by definition anti-establishment. Usually in their mid-20s and below, they still rely on peer support and have not struck out as individuals.
They are essentially Malay youths seeking to release nervous energy. It is a cheap form of escapism from stress at work or home.
The daredevils among them start young, perhaps as early as 15, usually to test a brother’s bike. They peak at 17 and 18, by then owning their own machines. Most would have given up in their 20s; a 30-year-old is considered over the hill.
The real racers do not indulge in “action” stunts and wheelies, said Faisal. At most, a racer would “baring macam Superman (stretch out like Superman) to cut down on wind resistance.”
If races were organised, Mat Rempit fear that traffic police will conduct spot checks upon the bikers leaving the scene.
“Somehow they will be there!” said Faisal. “They will check identity cards, check to see if the racers have ‘hot’ bikes.”
There is also a strong sense of territoriality among Mat Rempit. If an “outsider” comes into their turf “swaggering on his bike,” a group of local boys will surround him and ask him his business.
Then they will challenge him to a race.
Bets could be from as low as RM100 and go up to RM1,000.
In the cities, drugs are involved and a bohsiais sometimes offered as the prize.
Faisal added that accidents with other motorists did occur but these were rare.
“Usually bikers stop racing because of a traumatic accident, either involving themselves or a friend,” said Faisal. “It touches the conscience.”
The best solution, as Faisal sees it, is to allow youths to use one of the existing racetracks like Sepang once a fortnight or month.
“The youths can just come and race for free. But there must be no registration,” he stressed.
In the limbo between adolescence and adulthood, these youths are making a statement.
It is a passing phase which they will outgrow. The problem is, as they leave the scene, their younger brothers take their place.
