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| Image borrowed from hugolescargot.com |
Details on how it came into the family are vague. I think my father bought it. Certainly, I was on it most of the time, although my younger sister Tina also brought it out a few times.
This was in the early 90’s before the Motorcycle Helmet Act of 2009 was passed, so we didn’t wear helmets.
This was unfortunate since I took a few spills that would have been more bearable had my face been masked by one.
But I liked the freedom, convenience, and even attention that the scooter afforded me. Cebu traffic then was quite laid back and it never seemed too dusty or polluted to go on the road without a helmet. There were not that many women drivers then, more so those on motorbikes so I would get a lot of looks.
At the office, I would get ribbed about my driving. One time, our general manager told me his car had been behind me a few kilometers before reaching the office and he was aghast at how recklessly I was weaving in and out of traffic. “Babae ka ba o lalaki (are you female or male)?” he joked.
My older sister, who rode on the back at times, often startled me when she’d yelp or curse under her breath at how close her knees were to cars or other obstacles when I would go into tight spaces or corners.
It was fun, though, and I was actually getting to love the scooter when I got into an accident. Early one Saturday morning, a telegram came for our eldest sister about a job prospect she had been praying for. Excited, I hopped on the bike and rushed to where she lived, except that it started to rain. Hard. Big, heavy drops that you could not ignore especially since they seemed to amass at an alarming rate on the street, submerging low-lying portions.
Squinting against the rain, I traveled as fast as I could since I was wet anyway. I splashed over puddles until the front wheel got caught in a hole I failed to notice until I landed hard a few feet away. I heard the collective gasp and turned to find it came from commuters stranded under a waiting shed. My face burning, I waved to assure them I was OK. The scooter, however, was not. It would not start.
I walked it over to the nearest house, knocked on the door and explained to the owner I just had an accident and could I please leave the bike in her driveway until I could come back for it with a mechanic?
Horrified, she looked me over and invited me in, but since I was still intent on getting the telegram to my sister, I declined and boarded a passenger jeepney. I was wet so I was careful to sit as far away as possible from the other passengers. Thankfully, it was a Saturday and still rather early, so there were not that many on the jeep. But I remember the look they gave me. One man told me I was bleeding.
Only then did I notice my knees. What I thought was rain was blood trickling down one knee. The palms of my hands were bright red. I had instinctively held them out to cushion my fall and both were grazed from the road gravel. So was my elbow.
Of course my sister freaked out when she answered the door. She cleaned me up as best as she could, only paying attention to the telegram when she’d assured herself that the cuts were not deep and that I didn’t need stitches. I carried good news, though. She’d been asked to come in for an interview.
To cut a long story short, I came home from a two-day work
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| Standing with a friend beside my first car, a secondhand Mitsubishi colt mirage. |
Since I was eligible for a car loan from the company where I worked anyway, I soon got a secondhand, maroon Mitsubishi four-door Mirage with manual transmission.
It was my first car and I loved it for years. But I will always remember that scooter we had. It was my first ride.
I remember going to White Gold on that scooter with you. In fact I remember exactly what I was wearing :) The sad thing is, I do not remember your car at all.
ReplyDeletePity naman "Aga". That was the only car I ever named, hehehe.
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