I ride for pleasure, not because I must, but because I want to. It’s a form of therapy, the kind that clears your head at chill ride speeds. The world feels different on two wheels, something non-riders would never understand.
You notice everything: the scent wafting from food stalls, cracks in the road, the expressionless faces behind tinted windscreens, and even couples arguing in traffic. You learn to watch them all — especially at stoplights, where distraction can get you rear-ended.
Despite its risks, riding offers freedom — though in Metro Manila, that freedom comes wrapped in madness and danger: road design feels like guesswork, and enforcement is a lottery. Each time I swing a leg over my bike, I’m reminded that it isn’t just about skill — it’s daily discipline.
That discipline is tested by potholes, rogue pedestrians, and weaponized traffic rules. More so presently, now that the Supreme Court has partially lifted the TRO on the No-Contact Apprehension Policy (NCAP), bringing back CCTVs that allow the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA) to issue fines faster than your brakes work.
The MMDA calls it order; I call it bureaucratic whack-a-motorist. Yes, there’s a discipline problem — but it’s not exclusive to riders.
Kamotes come in all shapes and wheel counts. Car drivers who drift past solid lines like they’re playing Mario Kart, SUVs that muscle through intersections, buses that swerve over three lanes, jeepneys that stop mid-turn, and hazard-light high priests who park wherever and call it divine.
Motorcycle riders get most of the blame. The term kamote — once an insult for dull, failing students, advising them to just plant root crops — is now code for anyone who counterflows in slippers, runs red lights, or rides helmetless while livestreaming. They exist, sure.
But so do the rest of us. Many of us ride responsibly. We gear up not for fashion but for survival. We signal, yield, and obey what rules we can decipher. And we ride not to break the law, but to escape the gridlock that makes car-driving feel like punishment for someone else’s mistake.
I also drive a car, and have not been ticketed even once in 35 years, so I’ve seen the madness from both seats. And I can say this plainly: the problem isn’t two wheels, it’s the rot in how we govern the road.
On 13 June, the MMDA will again attempt alchemy on EDSA. Expect round-the-clock odd-even coding, free Skyway tolls, and expanded busways. They’ve even proposed converting bike lanes into shared motorcycle lanes — a noble idea, if this city weren’t a jungle.
“Shared” assumes harmony between pedals and pistons, which here is like asking sharks (motorcycles) and sardines (bicycles) to cohabitate peacefully along a narrow patch of road (pardon the mixed metaphors).
Meanwhile, motorcycle routes have grown longer and more absurd, as riders are banned from using overpasses and underpasses, and with the NCAP cameras looming overhead — ready to fine not just the reckless, but the unlucky.
The data is grim: over 62,000 road crashes in Metro Manila from January to November 2024. More than 15,000 involved motorcycles. These aren’t just numbers — they’re neighbors, family, friends. The issue isn’t the vehicles. It’s the mindset.
The MMDA’s answer? Motorcycle riding schools. It’s a start — but training won’t fix invisible signs, trap-laden intersections, and cameras that judge without context. It won’t fix the ambush-style implementation of traffic rules or the cottage industry built by mulcting traffic enforcers around motorists’ mistakes.
There’s also room to reflect on why many ride — not just for utility, but for peace, escape, or yes, to keep one’s sanity among loonies. That thought, however, gets lost in the noise of enforcement and blame.
So to my fellow riders and drivers: ride safe and drive smart. Signal, even if no one else does. Dodge the kamotes, survive the system, and keep your receipts — because in Islas los Camotes, the real hazard isn’t always other motorists.
Sometimes, it’s the one watching from a pole, or those behind a bank of CCTV monitors printing out a fine, and waiting to ruin your Monday.