Stupendously stupefying stupidity

Been driving for 33 years now with the licenses I've gotten from the Land Transportation Office remaining untainted with a single traffic violation ticket. Not for lack of "encounters" with traffic enforcers, though, because I certainly have had my share of those.

Maybe it's the way I've reasoned out with them; ribbing them as needed, or firmly elaborating on the nuances of traffic rules, but with respect even if some had been begging to be disrespected. No road-rager, this Contrarian is; or at least, I try mighty hard not to rage, like over this enforcer who countermanded a "go" green light and caused the driver behind to bump my rear.

Okay, no conflict with that line above. The driver at my six o'clock could not be faulted either because "green" universally means drive on unless some uninformed uniformed felon, errr, fellow, forces you to stop abruptly at the pain of being slapped a disobeying traffic signal ticket.

How's that for crazy? You violate an automated traffic signaling system to obey a hand signal from an enforcer who, clearly flunked physics. Still, I always give them the benefit of the doubt as when you're in uniform you follow even the stupendously, stupefying stupid orders of higher-ups who should know better with their post-graduate studies and lofty titles.

Imagine that non-contact apprehension policy — yes, the one TROed by the Supreme Court — at play. I'd be f*c#!d twice over. You follow the hand signal to escape being ticketed by the enforcer, and some guy behind the monitor manning the CCTV at the traffic control center then issues you an online ticket for stopping on "go."

The city government of Manila by the way, should declare itself a republic and secede as it insists its traffic enforcers would continue confiscating the driver's licenses of erring motorists on account of its ordinances. Alrighty! Let's just throw all national laws, like the one that says only the LTO can confiscate driver's licenses, into the dumpster.

***

"There's always a first time," fellow Daily Tribune editor, columnist and de facto office de-stressor Manny Angeles told me in response to my admission that only pure luck may have spared me even from fender-benders in all of those three decades of being behind the wheel of a Toyota Tamaraw, two Corollas and this jalopy (Oh, love your own) I have now.

For a while, I also fancied myself Top-Gunning with the wind-in-your-face exhilaration provided by being behind the handlebars of a Yamaha motorcycle, with the thin patches of the wheels' rubber the only things keeping me from kissing the pavement, or worse.

Those were the wild days of my youth as a reporter who learned street smarts by hitting the sack in my rented apartment at ungodly, witching hours, when cops and robbers and the journos who report on their "interactions" have the streets all for themselves, along with the street walkers or the bar "tenders" (not the ones who majored in mixocology) coming off happy hours. Pick-me-up, anyone?

Did I sense nervousness in that laugh of Manny? If he could, maybe he would, with him riding shotgun with me, as we, rather I, played chicken with fellow motorists who clearly did not know the right-of-way rule when approaching a wet, dark intersection without traffic lights.

Can't blame him for it must have been the scariest one-kilometer ride of his life from the office to that mall which I only go through for some Lola Neh's bulalo.

Three intersections and three "near misses" later, I must have added up to Manny's zest for life. I dropped him off amid a slight drizzle and somehow there's a peculiar bounce in his footsteps, as he gingerly separated himself from that hell ride.