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I was a little boy then. It was the late ’70s. I lived in the Bukit Jalil Estate.

The only public transport that I ever saw, knew and used was the KL-Port Swettenham Omnibus.

A red and silver Dodge brand bus. The bus route started from Klang bus station, Kuala Lumpur and ended its operation at Ayer Hitam, 14th Mile, Puchong.

It used to have the Toshiba advertisement which continuously twinkled at night, on its frontage facing the National Mosque and Railway Station.

I still remember the goreng pisang and tea stalls that I used to frequent with my father and my brothers.

Those days we did not have any tall structures as landmarks in KL, so the Klang bus station was our landmark.

Whether it was a visit to the hospital, theatre or school, it was always the Klang bus station.

I still remember one evening during Deepavali, after a movie with my parents at the Lido Theatre in Brickfields, I hurriedly got into the No 55, Ayer Hitam, Klang Port Swettenham bus.

This bus was always filled to the brim from the bus station till it passed the Kinrara Estate in 8th mile Puchong road.

I managed to get into the bus leaving behind my parents and my siblings.

When the sardine-packed bus started moving, I was shocked to note that my parents and my siblings were not in the same bus.

I jumped out of the running bus and was so relieved to see my parents and siblings who were all waiting for me.

It was a dangerous feat, but I never knew what danger was at that tender age.

The Klang bus station also reminded me of the occasion when I was mugged by two ruffians.

My cousin, a friend and I were selected by our school to attend pottery classes at the National Museum.

We used to attend these classes once a week and usually after the class, we frequented the pet shops at Petaling Street.

One day, while we were at the pet shop, two strangers approached us and asked for directions. Innocently, we explained to them the direction to the Klang bus station.

While we were giving them the direction, one of them took a dagger and pushed us to a small dark back lane in Petaling Street and took away our pocket money and yet were kind enough to give us our bus fare of 40 sen to return to Bukit Jalil estate at 6 ½ Mile Puchong road.

Klang bus station was a station for millions from the early ’70s. I shall

certainly miss this wonderful place.

As a bustling city now, I will certain miss its presence, but it is certainly necessary to develop this infrastructure which has certainly served its purpose.

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