Image of a Petronas petrol station. Subsidised RON95 for Malaysians is also available at Petron, Shell, BHP and Petros outlets
By Dr Rahim Said
After four decades of marriage, I’ve seen my wife do a great many things — raise children, run the household, and win arguments with surgical precision.
But one thing she has never done? Step out of the car at a petrol station. For her, petrol kiosks are the Bermuda Triangle of daily life: dirty, smelly, and far too “scary.” That’s been our domestic arrangement — I drive, I pump, I pay.
Until now.
Enter the Ministry of Finance’s bright idea: the Budi Madani RON95 (Budi95) programme. According to the official FAQ, if the car is in my wife’s name and the subsidy is tied to her MyKad, then she — not me — has to be physically present, step out of the car, swipe her card, and claim the cheaper fuel.
I can no longer be the loyal proxy with her MyKad in my wallet because, as the ministry sternly reminds us, using someone else’s MyKad is an offence under the National Registration Act 1959.
In theory, this sounds fair. In practice, it means my wife will have to break her lifelong boycott of petrol stations.
I can almost see the scene: her gingerly stepping out, holding her breath, waving her MyKad like a hazmat pass, while the pump nozzle dangles like some alien contraption. All because the bureaucrats in Putrajaya couldn’t imagine that a married couple might actually share a car — and the responsibility of filling it.
The FAQ says you and your spouse can both use your own MyKad to fill up the same vehicle, provided you’re each present when doing so. That’s fine if both husband and wife enjoy the occasional whiff of petrol fumes.
But for couples like us, this rule introduces a new marital strain: who gets the subsidy, and who gets the inconvenience?
The real comedy here is enforcement. At self-service terminals, who’s going to check if it’s your MyKad or your spouse’s?
The petrol pump attendant with X-ray vision? Or perhaps a new army of subsidy-police stationed at every kiosk, ready to pounce on criminals disguised as obedient husbands trying to save a few ringgit?
The FAQ doesn’t say — it just waves the rulebook and leaves the rest to our imagination.
Here’s the irony: a policy meant to help families manage costs ends up dictating family dynamics. My wife and I now face a test of marital endurance — will she finally brave the “scary” forecourt, or will I risk becoming a MyKad outlaw under the National Registration Act?
Either way, the price of petrol just got higher. Not at the pump, but at home.
WE