Playing Chicken

The oversized sign on the windshield of the bus careening towards me says “Limited Stops,” and no wonder because its driver doesn’t seem to have any plans of doing so. Or perhaps he’s simply forgotten where the brake pedal is as he hurtles his ten-ton behemoth at a hundred and twenty kilometers per hour, racing on the wrong side of the highway head-on towards me and my bike standing on the side of the road. I think this pretty much sums up my first experience riding in Cebu. On one hand, I’m giddy with excitement just looking at the sliver of perfectly paved asphalt snaking along the scenic coastline of Cebu Island, on the other hand I’m completely in awe of the driving style of the motorists zipping up and down the two-lane highway. Cars, motorcycles, flatbed trucks, ambulances, and buses filled with people race towards each other at breakneck speeds overtaking each other at dangerous blind corners and heavily populated sections of the road. Everybody here seem to be in such a hurry to get to wherever it is they’re going, ironically, so they can get back to the laid back lifestyle that is otherwise the norm off the road.

The first time I rode my bike here it felt like I was playing chicken with luck as I braved the highway from Cebu City to Bogo in the north. I have since figured out that no matter how fast the vehicles here are moving, or how reckless the drivers are, they always give cyclists a wide margin on the road. But still, it doesn’t fail to get my heart racing each time I face down a bus careening towards me, not knowing if the driver sees me on the road ahead or is he slumped on the steering wheel red faced drunk. I’ve gotten so nervous riding my bike that I’ve abandoned the notion of using an mp3 player while riding to stave off boredom so I can hear oncoming traffic better, I’ve also been using hand signals more often than usual, and I’ve learned not to put my head down for more than a second, not even in a strong headwind that is a staple when riding here in Cebu – all in the hopes of not ending up as a hood ornament for a bus loaded with poultry products, local produce, and screaming old women.

It’s a good thing the roads here are perfect for cycling, otherwise I’d have packed my bike and gone somewhere else on account of Cebu’s kamikaze drivers. Imagine well-paved asphalt with Cebu’s central spine of mountains on one side and the open sea on the other. There are places here, like in the municipality of Catmon for example at kilometer 47, where if you fall off the highway for some reason you’ll end up admiring the corals in the sea below. What’s even better, there are towns every ten kilometers or so on the road with at least a bakery, a drugstore, and an internet café if you’ll ever need one on a ride. The most amazing thing I noticed here while riding are the roadside ads of a popular hamburger chain, just a kilometer outside of Danao City in particular is a small sign that proudly tells motorists that they have another branch sixty kilometers away in a town called Bogo. There’s one right in the middle of Danao City, why on earth would anyone be interested in another one sixty kilometers away when they haven’t even traveled more than a kilometer from the last one? Perhaps it’s just a way of reassuring people that cheeseburgers, being the symbol of human civilization that it is, are still available as far as sixty kilometers onward, so it’s alright to push on, who knows?
On Sundays, the roadsides are clogged with barbecue stands roasting all sorts of God’s creation like there’s no tomorrow, making it hard sometimes to stay on the bike and keep myself from wandering into one of them for a quick bite. Sundays are also days reserved for long rides, and I’ve gotten used to the idea that the Sunday crowd of riders are usually out to maximize the weekend by riding hard and fast, hopped up on Tour de France videos from Youtube, astride newly polished bikes that have been in storage for the entire workweek. But not here, I’ve noticed that they ride in bigger groups here and they tend to ride slower, allowing more time to enjoy the view. I recently caught up with a group of riders however who seemed to be the exception, they were riding at a rather fast clip and they were actually a little crazy as well. I discovered too late that they were prone to sudden outbursts of energy, crossing over to the left-hand lane of the road where they would inexplicably start hammering in the path of oncoming traffic. These cyclists were obviously possessed, by what? I’m not sure, but they’ve definitely brought the game of playing chicken to a new and higher level.