Treacherous Roads
Last Saturday, we buried our lolo Jose. After a mass at Christ the King church in Project 7, we went on a convoy with the rest of my clan at the father side.
We had two cars -- the green Lancer '89 and the white Lancer '99. At first, dad asked me if we could leave the green one behind, but since my kuya and I had personal trips planned ahead, we brought both of them.
We then became the tail of a convoy of around fifteen cars. In front of me were a red Revo and a green Civic '03. We had traffic escorts (I thought they were illegal already... not sure... maybe in another part of the country...), and pretty slow ones as well. It made me want to wish that, in case I get escort service on my death, no car may travel less than sixty km/h.
Later on, we reached Quezon Circle. The escort service stopped traffic so that the convoy chain wouldn't be broken. Dad was close behind, and I was close behind the green Civic.
For some damned reason, a passenger jeepney wanted to cut the chain. In a sign of protest, I denied him entry by staying close to the Civic in front of me. I was in first gear, travelling no more than 20 km/h.
Then everyone stopped.
As a reflex, I hit the brakes -- mashing them to perhaps expect a screech. It was a good 3 meters away from the Civic when I stomped the brakes.
No screech. The car was sliding. Bad -- that means no rubber-to-tarmac traction. Initial mental voice-out was, "Shi-eeeeeeee-t!"
But I stopped so close. In fact, so close that I kissed the bumper of the Civic. Milliseconds later, I thought I was lucky.
Crash.
I wasn't. Dad also passed the same fucking jeep that wanted to cut us, and also had no traction. We share the same, quick reflex rate, dad and I, but nothing stopped that bone-crunching sound.
A quick look at the rear view mirror revealed to me the folded hood of the white Lancer. "Shit!", I shouted in frustration. Who wouldn't? I moved the car forward, and saw a cracked and crumpled bumper on the white car as well. Great. "Shit!", I continued.
The crash also caused my car to kiss the Civic more intimately. I kissed it too hard, the clippings of the Civic's bumper came off, but no heavier damage than wrinkled paint. All the repairing required was to return the bumper to its clips.
My car got sandwiched, in effect. My front bumper was pushed back by an inch, and my rear, well, is shit. The lower part of the rear end was crumpled badly. Aside from the bumper, parts of the underchassis also got pushed in. In fact, it got pushed in an inch -- which is enough to allow rain water to seep through and into the trunk (which, if opened, can be barely closed if one does not push in the trunk lid).
And the white car? Aside from the aforementioned damage, the A/C condenser and auxilliary fan were affected. My dad didn't have second thoughts and broke from the convoy to bring the car to the casa for repairs.
So who's fault is it? I got my share, as well as dad. Others include an asshole driving that passenger jeep for not respecting the convoy, and some asshole far ahead who caused the whole convoy to come to a complete stop.
Personally, I want to point a finger upwards with a clenched fist to all those who made the road. Dad said it may have been an oily road caused by a drainage overflow that had residue from restaurants. Methinks it's water on a pebbly-structured road surface, which translates to less rubber-to-tarmac surface area, which translates to reduced braking efficiency.
To prove my point, I did some testing yesterday with the green '89 Lancer. Control variables were speeds of up to 50 km/h, a wet road, and a simulated sudden stop. On samples at a street in Sampaloc and Connecticut Drive in Greenhills, the car reduced its speed drastically without tire lock. A sample on a concrete road in Victoria Avenue (near St. Luke's Hospital) gave me wheel lock, but with a screech (means I got rubber-to-cement traction).
A sample of the stretch of E. Rodriguez Sr. Ave. between Banawe and G. Araneta Ave., which featured a pebbly concrete road similar to the one at the crash site, gave me wheel lock and continuous sliding. There was barely any grip at all.
And now, I hereby cry to the government to give us better roads. I demand to see the taxes we pay during our annual LTO registration on the road. I demand that safer roads be made for all the motorists of the country to prevent accidents such as what had occurred (which will roughly cost us nearly a six-digit figure).
Until then, I will never have faith in our government.
And so I quote from my thoughts last night, driving home with kuya and mom:
"I love the Philippines, but how can I truly love my country if it doesn't love me in return?"
Last Saturday, we buried our lolo Jose. After a mass at Christ the King church in Project 7, we went on a convoy with the rest of my clan at the father side.
We had two cars -- the green Lancer '89 and the white Lancer '99. At first, dad asked me if we could leave the green one behind, but since my kuya and I had personal trips planned ahead, we brought both of them.
We then became the tail of a convoy of around fifteen cars. In front of me were a red Revo and a green Civic '03. We had traffic escorts (I thought they were illegal already... not sure... maybe in another part of the country...), and pretty slow ones as well. It made me want to wish that, in case I get escort service on my death, no car may travel less than sixty km/h.
Later on, we reached Quezon Circle. The escort service stopped traffic so that the convoy chain wouldn't be broken. Dad was close behind, and I was close behind the green Civic.
For some damned reason, a passenger jeepney wanted to cut the chain. In a sign of protest, I denied him entry by staying close to the Civic in front of me. I was in first gear, travelling no more than 20 km/h.
Then everyone stopped.
As a reflex, I hit the brakes -- mashing them to perhaps expect a screech. It was a good 3 meters away from the Civic when I stomped the brakes.
No screech. The car was sliding. Bad -- that means no rubber-to-tarmac traction. Initial mental voice-out was, "Shi-eeeeeeee-t!"
But I stopped so close. In fact, so close that I kissed the bumper of the Civic. Milliseconds later, I thought I was lucky.
Crash.
I wasn't. Dad also passed the same fucking jeep that wanted to cut us, and also had no traction. We share the same, quick reflex rate, dad and I, but nothing stopped that bone-crunching sound.
A quick look at the rear view mirror revealed to me the folded hood of the white Lancer. "Shit!", I shouted in frustration. Who wouldn't? I moved the car forward, and saw a cracked and crumpled bumper on the white car as well. Great. "Shit!", I continued.
The crash also caused my car to kiss the Civic more intimately. I kissed it too hard, the clippings of the Civic's bumper came off, but no heavier damage than wrinkled paint. All the repairing required was to return the bumper to its clips.
My car got sandwiched, in effect. My front bumper was pushed back by an inch, and my rear, well, is shit. The lower part of the rear end was crumpled badly. Aside from the bumper, parts of the underchassis also got pushed in. In fact, it got pushed in an inch -- which is enough to allow rain water to seep through and into the trunk (which, if opened, can be barely closed if one does not push in the trunk lid).
And the white car? Aside from the aforementioned damage, the A/C condenser and auxilliary fan were affected. My dad didn't have second thoughts and broke from the convoy to bring the car to the casa for repairs.
So who's fault is it? I got my share, as well as dad. Others include an asshole driving that passenger jeep for not respecting the convoy, and some asshole far ahead who caused the whole convoy to come to a complete stop.
Personally, I want to point a finger upwards with a clenched fist to all those who made the road. Dad said it may have been an oily road caused by a drainage overflow that had residue from restaurants. Methinks it's water on a pebbly-structured road surface, which translates to less rubber-to-tarmac surface area, which translates to reduced braking efficiency.
To prove my point, I did some testing yesterday with the green '89 Lancer. Control variables were speeds of up to 50 km/h, a wet road, and a simulated sudden stop. On samples at a street in Sampaloc and Connecticut Drive in Greenhills, the car reduced its speed drastically without tire lock. A sample on a concrete road in Victoria Avenue (near St. Luke's Hospital) gave me wheel lock, but with a screech (means I got rubber-to-cement traction).
A sample of the stretch of E. Rodriguez Sr. Ave. between Banawe and G. Araneta Ave., which featured a pebbly concrete road similar to the one at the crash site, gave me wheel lock and continuous sliding. There was barely any grip at all.
And now, I hereby cry to the government to give us better roads. I demand to see the taxes we pay during our annual LTO registration on the road. I demand that safer roads be made for all the motorists of the country to prevent accidents such as what had occurred (which will roughly cost us nearly a six-digit figure).
Until then, I will never have faith in our government.
And so I quote from my thoughts last night, driving home with kuya and mom:
"I love the Philippines, but how can I truly love my country if it doesn't love me in return?"
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