My Habal-Habal Ride

My Habal-habal Ride

            If the auburn sun was peeking through the mountains and I was riding on the back of a motorcycle, my long mane obeying the whims of the wind, and in front of me was a mysteriously appealing stranger who was to take me far away and live happily ever after, I would have been very thrilled, and happy, as they say in fairy tale movies.

            As it was, the cloudy sky was hiding the sun, and though I was riding on the back of a motorcycle with a stranger in front of me, I was having a bad hair day with my short hair rebelliously blowing in the wind, and the stranger was far from appealing, mysterious though he was. Moreover, he wasn’t going to take me far away and live happily ever after (not that I would have agreed either). He was going to take my friend and me back to the city where we should have been had we stayed in our homes.

            My adventure ride began with a sudden impulse to go to Rafael’s Farm in Babatngon and see for myself what really was there because I also had to write something about the place. I grabbed my friend to go with me, hopped on the van at 3 p.m., and went on to the second best adventure I had so far (the other one was incidentally in Babatngon too, when I went around Kanaway Island on foot).

            I was very confident about going to the farm and garden restaurant then because the ‘dispatcher’ assured us that there were still plenty of vans going back to the city. So we decided to just enjoy the scenic and relaxing view of Rafael’s Farm, take some pictures, and of course, try their bestseller: classic baby back ribs. My impulsive ride wasn’t in vain because we were in for a treat: Rafael’s Farm reminded me of the haciendas we only see in telenovelas, albeit smaller in size. It had a good landscape, courtesy of the owner Mr. Rene Tampi himself, and also had rustic huts true to the Waray spirit, and even a tree house. It was so good a place to relax away from the city, surrounded by plants and trees that really sway in the wind. Plus, their baby back ribs tasted like clouds, so tender and succulent they were that my friend and I were really able to consume all of it (and the meal was good for three persons).

            So we quite forgot about the time. It was already about five in the afternoon when we seriously thought of heading back. By then the sun went to hide behind the clouds, which also gave us a sense of foreboding. So we headed back to the road. We had been waiting for a full thirty minutes or so and still there was no van come to take us back. Our misery was further was further heightened by the fact that the guests who went to Rafael’s Farm were also starting to file out of it, but they had their very own ‘service’: they had their cars, their pajeros, their vans, and we were standing on the side of the road looking like tramps in trousers. Also, jeepneys were already passing by; but they were all going to Babatngon, none it seemed, wanted to go back to the city one last time. And just then, like a knight in shining armor, our habal-habal driver arrived.

            I don’t know by what fortunate winds our habal-habal driver arrived, but I sure am glad he did. Stopping at our spot on his motorcycle, his bag placed in front of him, he casually offered to take us as far as Peerless Village for a P20 fare. Without hesitation, we jumped aboard, for we instinctively knew he was our last chance at going back to the city.

            For the next thirty minutes or so of slowly riding on his motorcycle, I was beset by contradictory feelings. I was initially thrilled because that was my first time to ride the habal-habal and because I really loved the feel of the wind on my face, traveling like that. I didn’t believe my incredible luck that day to be going back to the city riding on a habal-habal, the vehicle sent us by the gods. I was literally smiling from ear to ear because whenever I traveled, I would always try to get the window seat, the seat nearest the open air, where I was free to look at all the greenery as we roared past. The habal-habal ride provided me that first experience, and until now, for me, nothing beats the thrill of riding on a motorcycle with the wind on all sides of you.

            But of course, ten minutes into the adventure ride, seeing (or imagining) people staring at us, I began to feel a little nervous (but not that much; I like to think happy thoughts). Worst-case scenarios were already sliding inside my head as if on cue: what if, he was not really the knight in shining armor we liked to think he was? What if, on some lonely stretch of the road, he suddenly stopped and showed his true colors as the serial killer we haven’t heard about but was prowling in the open? What if we never reached home safely? These were certainly valid fears that I harbored, and I’m sure my friend had them too.

            But luck and God did not leave us that day, so I’m still here to tell the tale. Since then, I’ve learned, and confirmed my belief, in the goodness of humanity (as trite as that phrase may seem). That stranger saw through us, that we needed help, and he willingly gave us a hand. Sgt. Garcia, as I later learned from him when I asked him out of curiosity, was just on his way to the Tacloban Doctors’ Hospital for his evening shift as security guard. His daughter, he told us, was in UP on a scholarship. He wasn’t really a full-fledged habal-habal driver; he only went into it as a sideline.

            Given these things, I do have full reason to give thanks. To the habal-habal driver/security guard whom we only know by the name of Sgt. Garcia, to the unknown man that I unknowingly bump into the street, to the moonstruck woman in the acacia tree outside our university, to all the people who make my world very strange, and very livable at the same time.

            In the words of Terry Pratchett, ‘The city’s full of people who you just see around.’ Indeed, it is. But sometimes, one of these people just happens to help you, and your life will forever be enriched by it.