The 100-Kilometer Jam to Ipoh

The air-conditioner in the Teoh family’s silver MPV was humming a tired tune, struggling against the 36-degree heat of the Malaysian sun. Outside, the North-South Expressway was no longer a highway; it was a parking lot. A river of metal stretched all the way to the horizon, shimmering under the heat haze.

“Are we there yet?” 10-year-old Eddy groaned, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.

“Eddy, if you ask that one more time, I will make you walk to Ipoh,” his older sister, 13-year-old Anna, snapped. She was trying to focus on her phone, but the data signal was so weak it couldn’t even load a single meme.

“Aiyoh, don’t fight lah,” their mother, Mama, said from the passenger seat. She was busy digging through a massive plastic bag filled with keropok and Tupperware. “Eat some biscuits first. We still have… let me see… ninety-eight kilometers to go.”

Daddy, gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. “Ninety-eight kilometers? We’ve been in the car for four hours! We haven’t even reached the Simpang Pulai exit. At this rate, the rendang at Grandma’s house will be frozen by the time we arrive.”

This was the annual Balik Kampung—the great migration. Half the country was heading north for the holidays, and the Teoh family was right in the thick of it.

The Great Snack War

For the first hour of the jam, things were peaceful. But as the car moved at a blistering speed of two kilometers per hour, the “cabin fever” started to set in.

“Ma! Eddy took the last piece of curry puff!” Anna yelled.

“I didn’t! It was already gone!” Eddy protested, crumbs clearly visible on his chin.

“Liar! I saw you swallow it like a vacuum cleaner!”

“Please, enough!” Daddy barked. “I am trying to concentrate on the brake lights in front of me. You know how dangerous this is? If I blink, the car in front might move five centimeters and I’ll miss it!”

“Relax, Daddy,” Mama said, using her soothing voice. “Why don’t we play a game? Like ‘I Spy’?”

“I spy with my little eye… another silver car,” Eddy said flatly.

“I spy… a person peeing in the bushes on the side of the road,” Anna added, pointing.

“Okay, no ‘I Spy’,” Mama sighed.

The Secret in the Glove Box

As the sun began to dip lower, the mood in the car shifted from annoyed to restless. To pass the time, Eddy started poking around the seat pockets. He found an old receipt, a dried-up wet wipe, and then—he reached into the glove compartment.

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddy pulled out a small, dusty red envelope—an angpow.

Daddy’s eyes widened in the rearview mirror. “Eddy, put that back. That’s just… old trash.”

“Wait,” Mama said, squinting. “That looks like the ‘Emergency Fund’ envelope I lost three years ago. The one I thought the cat ate.”

She snatched it from Eddy and opened it. Inside wasn’t money. It was a folded piece of paper. As she read it, her face turned a strange shade of pink.

“Daddy… what is this?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

“It’s nothing, honey. Just a joke,” Daddy stammered.

“It says here: ‘I owe Uncle Lim 200 Ringgit for the secret Durian feast.’ Daddy! You told me you were allergic to Durian so you wouldn’t have to help me pick them up from the market! You’ve been eating them behind my back for years?”

Anna and Eddy gasped. This was a scandal. Their mother took her “Durian-hating” husband’s health very seriously.

“I… I can explain!” Daddy cried. “The smell! I didn’t want it in the house! But Uncle Lim invited me… it was a Musang King party… I couldn’t say no!”

“And you let me eat my Durian pancakes alone in the kitchen like a lonely ghost?” Mama fanned herself with the paper. “Unbelievable.”

The Truth Comes Out

The dam had broken. Once one secret was out, the others started leaking like a rusty pipe.

“Well, if we’re being honest,” Anna whispered, looking at her brother, “Eddy didn’t actually lose his school shoes last month.”

Eddy’s eyes went wide. “Anna! Don’t!”

“He traded them to a kid in 5T for a limited-edition robotic toy,” Anna smirked. “He’s been wearing his old ones that are two sizes too small. That’s why he walks like a penguin.”

“Eddy!” Mama turned around in her seat. “I spent sixty Ringgit on those shoes!”

“But Ma! It was a Gold-Edition robot!” Eddy wailed. “And Anna… she’s not actually studying when she locks her door! She’s practicing ‘K-Pop’ dances in front of the mirror!”

The car erupted into a chorus of “You did what?” and “How could you?” For thirty kilometers, the Teoh family aired out every little secret they had kept over the past year. They argued about hidden test scores, “lost” Tupperware (which was actually under Eddy’s bed), and who really broke the TV remote.

The Breakdown (Literally)

Just as the argument reached its peak, the car made a strange hissing sound. Steam began to billow from the hood.

“Oh no,” Daddy groaned. He managed to steer the car onto the narrow emergency lane.

The silence that followed was heavy. The air-con died. Within minutes, the car became a sauna. They stepped out onto the gravel, watching the endless line of cars crawl past them. People in other cars looked at them with pity—the ultimate Balik Kampung nightmare.

“Great,” Anna said, sitting on the guardrail. “Now we’re stuck in a jam and our car is a giant kettle.”

Daddy looked defeated. He sat down next to his daughter. “I’m sorry, guys. I should have checked the radiator. I was just so rushed to get us to Ipoh.”

Mama sighed, her anger melting away in the heat. She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of lukewarm water. “It’s okay, Daddy. At least we’re all together. And at least you don’t have to hide your Durian love anymore.”

Eddy looked at his parents, then at the long line of cars. He saw a family in the car next to them—three kids pressed against the window, looking just as bored as he was. He made a funny face at them, and they laughed.

“Hey,” Eddy said, “look at the bright side. We have enough snacks to last two days. And Ma, you still have that Tupperware of fried chicken, right?”

Mama smiled. She spread a plastic sheet on the grass of the embankment. “You know what? Let’s have a picnic. Right here on the North-South Expressway.”

The Toll Plaza at Last

Two hours later, a tow truck—driven by a friendly man named Uncle Samy—arrived. He fixed the radiator hose with some heavy-duty tape and a lot of expertise.

“Don’t worry, boss,” Uncle Samy laughed. “This happens every year. Everyone is in a rush to go home, but the road has its own plans.”

As the Teoh family piled back into the now-cool car, the mood had changed. The secrets were out, the yelling was done, and they were exhausted but strangely happy. They shared the last of the chicken with Uncle Samy and waved him goodbye.

As the sun finally set, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold, the lights of the Ipoh toll plaza appeared in the distance.

“We made it,” Daddy whispered.

“Wait,” Eddy said, sniffing the air. “Is that… Durian?”

They all looked out the window. A truck carrying crates of the thorny fruit was idling right next to them. Daddy and Mama looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Mama said, patting her husband’s hand. “When we get to Grandma’s, we stop at the roadside stall first. But you’re paying with your ‘secret’ money!”

“Deal,” Daddy grinned, stepping on the gas as the traffic finally began to flow.

The 100-kilometer jam wasn’t just about the distance; it was the longest conversation they had ever had. And as they drove into the limestone hills of Ipoh, they realized that sometimes, being stuck is the only way to move forward.