Love affair with Toyota

By Al S. Mendoza

It’s nice to be back, thank you Dear God. 

More than recharged are my cells now bubbling once more with sting, zip  and audacity.

And what’s this that has caught my attention just hours after my arrival?

Manny Pacquiao returning to the movies portraying the lead role in the biopic movie of General Malvar?

Isn’t Malvar a Batangueno and Pacquiao a Visayan?

What is Batangas’ equivalent of ala eh in Cebuano, Pacquiao’s mother tongue?

And since some of Malvar’s relatives object to Pacquiao being the General, I guess it will make sense if the fighting senator backs out of the project?

Pacquiao doesn’t need the movie.  He will just absorb flak, denting a stature already almost secure in the years to come.

Just thinking out loud, of course.

Anyway, as you read this, I could be up in the skies anew as I am bound to board my handsome PAL jet today, Sunday, at 8:50 a.m. for Tokyo.

I’m covering again the Tokyo Motor Show lasting one week or so.

I just can’t resist the temptation to be in the automotive event that features once more futuristic cars as well as concept vehicles.  

Being a full-time automotive journalist, too, since I put up the Motoring Section of the Inquirer in 1991, I feel it almost my duty to attend almost every major vehicle show around the world if given the chance.

The Tokyo Motor Show is one of the world’s Top 10 motor shows alongside similar huge car exhibitions in Paris, London, Las Vegas, New York, Frankfurt, the Motor City that is Detroit, Bangkok and, as of late, Beijing.

Funny you might say but I have not stopped covering the Tokyo Motor Show since I was first there in 1993.  It has a magnet like no other.

Mitsubishi was the first to invite me in 1993, followed by Nissan in 1995 and Honda in 1997 in the once-in-two-years affair.

After Toyota took me in in 1999, I found myself glued to the world’s No. 1 carmaker for the next 11 editions of the Tokyo Motor Show, including this year.

That’s easily a total of 22 years.

If that was not love at first invite, Elijah-won Marcial would damn Lady Gaga till Niagara Falls run dry.  

And who will not miss Carlo Ablaza’s embrace when one’s down in the Land of The Rising Sun ?

Easily therefore, my love affair with Toyota has seemingly become as timeless and as endless as day follows night.

I must admit I never lose interest, I never will ever get fed up, in covering the Tokyo bash.

Is it Japan’s succulent sashimi, too, if not the country’s famed moist sushi and tender and juicy Kobe beef that I keep coming back?

Ah, I will miss my breakfast sorties with Danny “Sir John” Isla and Tito Hermoso at Keio Plaza Hotel in Shinjuku.

Who said I am still tired from my just ended three-week sojourn in America’s East and West?

My current PAL pilot will bark shortly: “Prepare for landing.”

Seatbelt fastened.

Feet squarely planted on the floor.

And so, Toyoda-san, here I come. 

As I said, I’ve been more than recharged I could knock Pacquiao out with a single punch.

Share your Comments or Reactions

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments