It always starts the same way.

You turn into what looks like a shortcut. Just a small side street, a bit tight. Waze says it will save you six minutes. Then suddenly, the road narrows. A tricycle blocks half the lane. There’s a kwek-kwek stall on the left and a guy frying banana cue in front of someone’s gate. You’re not going forward anymore.

You need to back out or make a U-turn.

There is a unique species of driver found in the Philippines. They’re not in a rush. They don’t panic. They are never bothered by the sound of impatient horns because they say the most powerful and most misleading sentence in our driving culture.

“Sandali lang po, atras lang ako.”

Cue Spongebob’s “A few moments later…”

I tell you what…it is never “sandali lang po.”

Once those words are spoken, a full production begins. The car shifts to reverse. Brake lights glow red. Side mirrors fold and unfold. Your head turns slowly, elbow up, one hand on the wheel like you’re about to perform a magic trick. This is it. The slow-motion parking maneuver Pinoys have mastered over decades of crowded, narrow streets.

Move a little. Stop. Steer hard for absolutely no reason. Move again. Pause. Reflect. Breathe.

Neighborhood kids gather. A tricycle slows down to watch and offer commentary. The food stall owner leans on his kwek-kweks and shakes his head.

Somehow, this simple reverse becomes a multi-step zigzag dance involving the neighborhood and one dog that refuses to move. The dog lives there. You’re the guest.

The obstacles…they’re built-in.

But the driver of the GWM Tank 300 persists. This car is too long for the street and too wide for the gap. But somehow, it squeezes through the alley like it’s done this many times, in multiple awkward but effective steps.

And now comes the barangay volunteer. No one called him. He just appears. He claps his hands, taps the bumper, and then begins directing traffic.

“Sige pa! Konti pa! Diretso lang! O, kabig mo konti!”

It’s unclear if he’s helping. But tradition says he must be there.

Then there’s the pause. That moment of quiet where the driver stops, opens the door, steps out, looks at the car’s angle, scratches his head, then gets back in like he just solved a world problem.

One delivery rider is now stuck behind. He honks. But the driver does not acknowledge it. He and his uninvited assistants are in the zone now. This turn must happen even if it takes all afternoon.

Eventually, a miracle occurs. The car is in. Slightly diagonal. The tire is touching the curb. The crowd disbands. The street breathes again.

It is finished.

And just like that, the driver drives away like nothing happened. Cool. Calm. Victorious. Meanwhile, everyone else has aged five years waiting.

There are no awards for these kinds of maneuvers. No trophies. No viral TikToks. But there is the quiet satisfaction of a turning challenge that defied geometry and the physical limitations of barangay roads.

Somehow, SUVs, like the GWM Tank 300, manage challenges like these with a surprising amount of grace. With enough patience and a helpful barangay, even the tightest turns are possible.

Somewhere, another driver is about to roll down their window, wave at a stranger, and say the same immortal words.

“Sandali lang po, atras lang ako.”

Brace yourself. The show is about to start. Pakilabas ang popcorn.