“Hiwalay na kung hiwalay,” fellow motorhead Aris Ilagan quipped, chugging from his beer bottle, half-emptying it in one go, as we stared at the large serving of beef nachos and — what I would later discover — Bugsy Salcedo’s to-die-for, tangy-spicy tokwa’t baboy.

Outside, within staring distance, a Ninja 650 motorcycle (in proper green, of course) glistened, caressed like a lover by the rays of a particularly flamboyant moon. Journalism talk quickly took a backseat to the counterculture vibe of riding motorcycles, à la Peter Fonda in Easy Rider.

I used to read the guy’s name in a rival newspaper as I got military-worthy (think ROTC) haircuts in college, and there I was across from him, talking about riding together down long straights and along the twisties, like it would be the most natural thing to do for two people who had just met in person. And we weren’t drunk yet, mind you.

The man behind the “Riding in Tanders” missives — funny takes on the motorbike world — made a dare about parting ways, right? Yes. It was his comic advice, delivered with all the seriousness he could muster, to any guy or girl — not just those facing a midlife crisis — who wanted to swing a leg over a leather seat.

The marital threats would come, he explained, on being sent off to ride for good, out of the house and into the Isley Brothers’ Highways of My Life, with the song’s plaintive line, “no looking back.”

Nah. In my case, endless hours of watching motorcycle-anything-and-everything on YouTube in the living room allowed me to lay it down gently — about revisiting a past life, 40 years back, when I would tear down the road on my single-cylinder Yamaha, at a time when not wearing helmets was the rule, not the exception.

Riding on two wheels does that to people — whether on a cheap Rusi or a back-breaking and bank-account-raiding Harley. Puttering down tree-lined mountain paths clears the mind, allows one to take stock of life, and decide which fork in the road to take toward a final destination. Or whether one wants to die smiling from having not missed out on life’s simple pleasures.

Non-riders would never understand, and it doesn’t matter, since none would have read this far into this rambling discourse.

There’s this viral video of Aris T-boning a four-wheeled vehicle, with him flying, somersaulting in the air, and then landing on terra firma in a way that would make stuntmen worry about keeping their jobs. He would stand a bit and later earn the awe of the orthopedic surgeon for how he managed to break both ankles in perfect symmetry.

There’s no romanticizing the asphalt. The World Health Organization estimates over 350,000 motorcycle rider deaths annually — a stark reminder that every twist of the throttle carries an inherent risk.

It’s a dance with danger, a flirtation with fate, where a single miscalculation can lead to a tragic, “no looking back” end — not of a song, but of a life. But though danger shadows every mile, the open road may provide the salve to life’s restless spirit. Shall we ride together?