My Mother Warned Me Never To Ride A Motorcycle

In case you’re wondering where I’ve been, I got into a car accident involving a motorcycle on Tuesday morning on my way to work, hence the lack of blog posts for two days now. Just to set the record straight, there were no serious casualties except for minor injuries.

I have been on a 0600H–1400H work shift since January. I usually give myself at least 45 minutes to get to work, so I aim to leave the house a quarter past five o’clock every day. I was just a stone’s throw away from my office when it all happened. As I was making a U-turn towards the street leading to my office, a loud thump jolted me out of my senses. The next thing I knew, my right side mirror was folded towards my direction; a motorcycle was stuck beneath my car; and a man was struggling to get up from being thrown out of his motorcycle. My initial reaction: WHAT THE—? My confusion was suddenly replaced by concern when I realized that someone‘s been hurt, and I have no idea of the extent of his injury. Almost instantly, I rolled the passenger side’s window down to ask if he’s okay. I breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to rise with the help of a passerby. I know we were not supposed to do anything in situations like that until a police officer arrives, but we were literally in the middle of the road at 0545H, so he got his motorbike under my car as I try to pull over to the side.

When I got out of the car, I had to check how the guy was. While he only endured a few scratches on his left knee, I insisted that I bring him to the hospital for further examination, but he resisted relentlessly. With that being said, I braced myself for the extent of damage my car has endured. The sight of a huge dent and visible scratches horrified the life of me.

Since the accident happened before the break of dawn, it was unlikely that a police officer or an authority will come to our aid. When what just happened started to sink in, I began calling people. I called my brother first instead of my parents to inform them about the accident because I know he’s the only soul still awake at that time. He was stricken, but remained calm throughout our conversation. The next person I called was my husband who was equally appalled, but more frustrated that he couldn’t be of any help.

An hour and a half later, we arrived at the nearest police station to report about the incident. However, the officer-on-duty advised that we go to the traffic division where an official issue report shall be provided. The problem is, it’s a long drive from where we were, so we dismissed the idea. The erring party instead offered to shoulder all repair expenses, and we had this documented in the presence of two police officers.

At eight o’clock, I decided to skip work altogether to go to the service center, and obtain an assessment of the damages my car sustained. I got there about an hour later, and as soon as I entered the premises, my body quivered. I figured it was the aftermath of what happened earlier. Good thing I brought something for lunch that I consumed for breakfast. Man, was I exhausted.

On our way back to where the guy left is broken motorcycle, I asked if he drives a car, too, or if he’s only driven a motorcycle ever since. He said he prefers motorcycles over cars, but don’t justify this. For what its worth, I sort of tried to talk him out of giving up the motorcycle due to its nature of being a more accident-prone mode of transportation, but his blunt response caught me off guard. Apparently, he believes that most motorcycle accidents are due to “driver error”, and not machine breakdown/failure. With that being said, I was reminded by my mother’s warning never to ride a motorcycle nor even think about purchasing one. Indeed, mothers know best.

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