Two-wheeled Elegance

Thanks to my compact and easy to handle scooter, my wife and I made it to her sister’s civil wedding in a nick of time, notwithstanding Monday morning traffic. Except for my used-to-be-starched-white Barong (formal wear native to Filipinos), nobody would suspect that we rode almost 20 kilometers of turmoil just to get there on time. Taking the car was out of the question because driving a manual steering stick shift on Monday morning traffic will have an impact on my 30-year-old joints. I opted for the scooter instead of my rugged off-road inspired motorbike because it seemed more appropriate for our attire and we needed the cargo space (floor board) for the bouquet. We thought that my sis in law’s civil wedding pictures would look much better if she has a bouquet in hand. After the requisite “mother of the bride scene” the not-so-legal-looking judge swore in the couple and then we’re off to Rockwell Center for a mini wedding reception. I asked my wife to ride in her sister’s car going to the classy, high-end mall but to my surprise, she insisted on riding with me on our scoot. In the parking lot, amongst the gigantic SUV’s and the ultra-wide luxury cars, my ride held its own. I guess elegance can also come in small packages.

Monday Morning Nuptials

“Maybe she really doesn’t want us to attend”, I thought to myself while I rode my scoot like a porn star through Ortigas Extention road (a.k.a purgatory if you’re a cab driver). Acceleration drag is just one of the many cons of purchasing a china-made scooter (the only pro being the price) and it usually acts up during stop and go heavy traffic situations. My wife and I were on our way to attend her sister’s civil wedding (no, she wasn’t knocked up) in Makati City Hall, on a Monday morning rush hour, no less. At least she was able to say that those in attendance were people who really care about her. My sister in law and her groom decided to have a civil wedding two months before the actual ceremony for VISA application purposes. So that after the wedding bells, her very eager husband can literally sweep her off her feet and take her to his homeland Belgium without immigration issues. I remember my own wedding about four years ago. It would have been nice to arrive on the venue on a motorbike. Back then I couldn’t even afford a bicycle. I was so broke (because of wedding banquet expenses) that I kept hoping for Ang Pao’s (cash gifts in red envelope) instead of the usual wedding gifts (oven toasters, rice cookers, edible underwear, etc.). Well, I recall taking a tricycle on my way to the cab terminal that day. That counts.

Romance on two wheels....a rush hour love affair

Most of us 9 – 5 to drones hate going to work. It is hard enough to leave your most precious love one to the care of someone who has to multi-task several other chores; it’s more of a challenge to put up with a very frustrated person who wears Barong but would rather wear wings made out of wires and old stockings. And worse, you have to survive the daily chaos to and from work. I can’t take my daughter to the office and I’m not in the position to influence someone else’s sexual orientation but I was able to change the circumstances of my daily commute. I bought a motorcycle.
Actually it was a China-made 150cc scooter. I already had electrical problems during the first week of ownership and the dealer’s mechanic screamed like a schoolgirl when the scoot’s wiring started to burn during troubleshooting. I asked for a money back and bought the most popular bike of the most popular brand in the land, the Honda XRM 125. It became my motivation to get up, dress up and show up for work. I get to ride my bike everyday, twice! Initially, my wife thought of the bike as a “wheeled widow maker” or “rolling mid-life crisis” but my being featured in a local motorcycle magazine added some prestige to my riding. This enticed her to ask me for occasional rides to her office. Then she got tired of long lines and stinky passengers of the Antipolo-Ortigas shuttles and “occasional” became daily. In need of more cargo space, I bought another 150cc scooter and it became an essential tool in beating the “bandy clock”. What cab drivers use to scare their kids into obedience became our dance floor for our everyday waltz to work. The pillion letting the rider lead with every twist and every sway, seeping through tons of moving metal and toxic fumes. This is the ultimate display of trust. Stranded commuters can only look on as we cruise with a song in our heads and smiles on our faces.

Yamaha YBR 125G

Generally speaking, it’s always nice to have something big between the legs. So while my XRM serves me well, I keep having the compulsion to trade it in for a bigger bike.
Like most underbones, the Honda XRM is smaller than the standard motorcycle. It is a descendant of the Honda Super Cub, which was hailed by Discovery Channel as “the greatest motorbike of all time” because of its durability, efficiency, and total unit sales. With its unimposing size and design, the Honda Cub became the motorbike for non-bikers. The XRM, however, has a sporty design that is intended for both on-road and off-road use. It is truly an eye candy with its rugged but elegant design except when there’s a 5’11” 185 pound rider on top.
Contrary to what the magazines say, motorcycling is not about convenience or fuel efficiency but about vanity. No amount of expensive riding accessories can hide the fact that I am too big for my bike. Riding a tiny scoot looks cute while riding a little cub is plain awkward (I normally have to assume a kama sutra position to reach the shifter). Since no dealer in the country offers trade-ins for underbones, I only have two options: sell it at half-price or sell it on installments to get the full value. But when my brother expressed his “good intentions” for my XRM in replacement of his China-made “vibra bike” (maybe he’s getting tired of the tingling sensation with every twist of the throttle. I bet he can make a fortune if he tries to sell it in a convent), I couldn’t agree right away. I’ve always been a scooter guy for practical reasons but the XRM got me started into riding for pleasure. The bike also got me featured in a local motorbike magazine. I was bent on keeping it forever but Yamaha made things more complicated. I had to pull over when I first saw the YBR 125G in Antipolo. It has everything I wanted in a bike and it’s even in a motard set-up (I fancy myself as an adventurer). It is equipped with a tachometer to help novice riders like me to operate the manual-clutched, 5-speed 125cc engine. Because of its sporty styling, the muffler (and sparkplug) is slightly raised so you can ride confidently through flooded streets during rainy season. I simply must have it.
First, I have to secure the funding for the new bike. This time, I was the one to approach my brother. He’d be happy to buy the XRM on installments but he has to wait until the following month for the renewal of his contract as a part-time collector to be sure that he can afford the payments. Great! Patience is really not one of my virtues.
Second, get the approval of the commander in chief. I had to explain my plans to my wife very carefully. Otherwise, I will become a real traveler/adventurer because I’ll get kicked out of the house. I was already on shaky ground when i decided to keep the XRM after taking home a 150 cc scoot. When I took her to see the YBR personally she gave me a “what the hell are you waiting for?” (Or “in your dreams, pal”) look. She said yes as long as I sell the XRM first. So now, I have to wait and let destiny take its course. I just hope Yamaha wont take the YBR out of the market like what they did with the X-1.

Ride to Sierra Madre (Marilaque).....one for the road.

Just like having sex, you wouldn't be able to fully appreciate your first marilaque (Manila-Rizal-Laguna-Quezon) highway ride. It will be a feast for your senses and you will be awe-stricken while you process what you just experienced. And like having sex, it is not ideal to do it by yourself.
Since my first marilaque ride was unplanned, it was quick but uneasy (just like sex) because the exhaust system of my China scoot literally fell apart. The nuts (not related to sex) and bolts were shaken loose by the "not so perfect road" in Masinag area. I was so worried with my nuts (yep, sex) as well because the bike's suspension and seat cushion were not doing what they're suppose to (maybe i'll have a great career with the Bee Gees when i get back, if Mr. Pineda can do it....). I even missed the famous "Mang Vic Bulalohan" on my way up. On my ride downhill, i already lost two screws (not sex, quit it).
It only took a brochure from the Sierra Madre resort to convince my wife to ride with me on my second trip to marilaque. We both called in sick to our respective offices and then we suited up as soon as our boss at home took her nap. We used the XRM because i havent had a chance to have the scoot fixed. 10.4 N.M of torque would be enough to take us up to the hills. I deliberately took the Antipolo route (via Ortigas extention) so we can stop by the Yamaha store to let her have a look at the new Yamaha YBR 125G. Ive been infatuated with the bike ever since it came out and the only way i can have it without losing an arm is to sell my XRM first. I suddenly realized that the marilaque trip might be my last long ride on my beloved Ubone.
Our next stop was Mang Vic Bulaluhan. We thought that we were getting too adventurous in the risk of getting Hepa B but the smell of Bulalo was too hard to resist. After we shared a bowl cholesterol, my wife asked for the ladies room. I had to advise her against using the toilet because after i did, i felt like i need ten years of psychotherapy to get the images out of my head. We enjoyed the ride upill so much that we felt like young lovers again. I should have been worried for any bike problem because the place is almost uninhabited but the winged logo on my little ubone gave me confidence. The usual destination for a marilaque ride is the Sierra Madre resort. My wife attemted to inquire about their wedding reception packages for her sister but the Ogie Alcasid look-a-like attendant was not very accomodating. You can expect better service from a SOGO motel (based on what my friends told me, of course). Atleast, they let us roam around the place to take some pictures. The ride downhill was equally enjoyable, with the glimmering view of Laguna Bay on the left, and the Sierra Madre mountain range on the right. If you really think about it (or if you're as green minded as i am), the marilaque ride is really like having sex. The ups and downs, lots of twisting involved and it pays to have a video recorder. Dont forget to wear protection, i mean, protective gear.

Escape to Batangas

Top ten things i am not happy to have:
10. Toe nails
9. a picture of me with Michael Buble (coz every time someone sees it i feel compelled to give
an explanation)
8. "year of the pig" tikoy(sticky rice cake) in the fridge
7. a David Caradine Tai chi work out video
6. a left foot one size bigger that my right foot
5. siblings
4. irresistable good looks
3. weak bladder
2. rusty barbeque grill
1. mother in law

Palos(we have given him the name because he seems to be a big fan of Jake Cuenca), my gender-confused canine, is practically useless as a guard dog. He doesnt even bother to lift up his head from his slumber whenever a stranger is within the vicinity. When asked why we keep him on a leash, our official statement is that the dog is so ferocious that it will lunge at anyone on site. But the real reason is he poops all over the place and pees on all things metal. That's why when we give directions to the pizza guy we just tell him to look for the half-green, half-brown(rusted) gate. The only reason why Palos doesnt end up on our next door neighbor's plate(yes, they love to eat dogs....and cats too) is that he barks on my mother in law whenever she pays us a visit. At least i get a warning so i can pack the essentials and head for the hills.
I am happiest on Thursday nights because Friday is my day-off and the best way to relax after a week of work is to watch the evening news. While a reporter was giving details on how a drunken motorcyclist's brains made the pavement more colorful, i heard the high pitched whiny bark. I suddenly felt envious of my fellow rider who's already in a better place than i was. Half way through the three-hour supper(suffer), my mother in law declared that she will spend the night. As a learned defense mechanism, my mind traveled back to my happy childhood memories to buffer the impact of the terrible, terrible news. By six a.m. the next morning i was already warming up my xrm 125, quite eager to give my wife a ride to the office. After the drop off i was faced with the same question i asked myself when i first held my college diploma, "now what?". I would have been contented to go home and take my daughter for a scooter(ultima whistler 150) ride around the park but what lurked within our guest room kept me from shifting my bike into gear. Again my defense mechanism kicked in and my mind was transported to my childhood days in Batangas. Before i knew it i was already in C5 nearing Bicutan. I made a short stop over in the east service road just before Sucat to get a closer look of my wife's billboard of Nuture Spa in Tagaytay. She is a Psychologist by profession, a spa enthusiast by obession, and a billboard model by coercion. The ride from Alabang to Calamba would have been an ordeal if not for the busty Laguna ladies criss-crossing the congested road. Long stretches in Sto. Tomas and Malvar permitted 100 kph but the zigzag road in San Jose forced a slowdown. Upon reaching Batangas City i went strait to Kipsi Elementary School where my aunt runs a small canteen. As far as i know, it is the only Chinese school in the city and it is also where three generations of the chinese community in Batangas attended primary school. Consequently, a temple was erected within the school compound so businessmen will have a place to negotiate with all sorts of entities to attain peace, potency and profit. Still in my riding gear, i approached Aunt Fe while she was counting money in her cash box. "Anong ulam?"(what's for lunch?) was met by a stern look and a hand in her belt bag(probably reaching for a pepper spray). Only when i took off my helmet did she answered "chicken afritada and chopsuey" with a smile that made her face evident of seven decades of hard work. To promote blood flow to my butt area, i decided to walk around first to take some pictures. Since the trip was unplanned, i only have my camera phone with me. I took pictures quickly, hoping that no one will recognize me because i was known to be the only dumb kid that came out of the Chao klan. To my dismay, one of my old teachers came up to me and said "hey, you're the kid who couldnt hold it in until recess". The thing with school teachers and elephants is that they have good memory. She mentioned "recess" with a whistle. I noticed that she still wears the same hair do and probably the same dentures as well. Instead of "hey, you're the teacher who needs both hands to brush her teeth", my reply was "hi ma'am, nice to see you again". While i was enjoying my lunch with my full set of teeth, the heavens darkened and it rained hard soon after. By the time i was washing down my meal with a soda the sky already cleared up. I loosened my belt, warmed up my bike then rode off hoping that the dark cloud which hovered at home had already passed.

Chocolate Falls

My daughter just turned two but she is so precocious that sometimes I tend to have high expectations on her. One time I let her run around our community park thinking that it would help her develop healthy lungs. Gabrielle is strong and nimble but her balancing skills is yet no match for the uneven ground. She fell and scraped her knee raw. It was her first “boo-boo” and the look on her face was someone who was betrayed. I was guilt-stricken while I carry the little thumb sucking angel home. I realized that even though she bosses us around for spite, my daughter is still a baby after all.
I had a similar realization while I was riding my beloved Honda XRM 125 on a roller coaster road going to Tanay, Rizal. I was so excited to put the “dual sport” claim to the test and from what I’ve gathered; the Antipolo-Teresa route would do nicely. I finally found the perfect excuse to take the trip when I was tasked to find a baptism spot for my sis-in-law’s Belgian boyfriend who will be converting to our religion. I was thinking along the lines of “near” and “natural body of water”. Europeans have a reputation that is olfactory in nature but even the Hinulugang Taktak falls in Antipolo would be too much for my soon to be brother in law. Hence, I set out for Daranak falls in Tanay for an ocular inspection. My bike performed well on the twisties (as some forumers call it), but not as well as on the upward slopes. Maybe I was accustomed to my 150cc scooter (which I ride to work daily) or maybe my ass was too heavy for the little iron stallion. I’m allergic to exhaust fumes from ten-wheeler trucks (especially when the truck is going uphill, squish!) so my tendency is to over take even on tight spots. The pick up and acceleration is a bit wanting but enough to get you to places most sedan drivers couldn’t. But be it ever so reliable, my ride is a moped (underbone) after all.
While I was en route the cliché “so near yet so far” came to mind. I was only half an hour away from my humble abode in Cainta but the scenery was a million miles different. Instead of the dilapidated Ever Ortigas mall, I saw the Laguna lake gleaming like a giant silver plate. The shower of leaves on a Morong highway made me think of the warm welcome given to the great biblical character when He came into town riding on a lowly donkey instead of a noble steed. Maybe the donkey was the XRM of that era (anything to glorify my bike). From the main road, a five-minute ride thru a gravel path will take you to the ticket booth of Daranak falls. The old man in the booth was having brunch so he gave me a swim now pay later deal. Other than gushing water and rustling leaves you will hear nothing else. Maybe it was my out-of-the-bed hair do (helmet head) and my tangerine riding jacket, but my reaction when I saw the beauty of the falls probably made me looked like a clueless Korean. It was too cold to take a swim so after taking some pictures I went up stream to see Batlag Falls, which is also within the vicinity. After working up a sweat hiking uphill, the cool waters became more inviting. I left my board shorts in my U-box and modesty forbids skinny-dipping. I have only one option left. Good thing “manong” didn’t mind getting paid with a wet twenty-peso bill.