7.8.11

Changes I See in My Trike Rides

              So the first week of August was really a wet and damp week, huh? I mean, I went to and fro the hospital I’m volunteering in with white shoes splattered in mud and slacks stained with dirt no matter how careful I was to avoid the merciless speeding vehicles whose wheels splash groundwater as it came past me.
            Well, I must say I’m presently more tolerable towards the above situation because maybe, my system has become used to it. Ever since I was in elementary, I have been riding the tricycle that pass a bumpy, unpaved road, causing you to hit your head on its steel many times - and nothing is worst than raining hard when you get home poorly soaked from head to foot.
            Yes, although I’m clamoring about this, I still find riding these down-to-earth three-wheelers fun. I loved sitting on its roof, feeling the cool breeze that brushes through my face. However, there are times that I just wanted to sit on its either soft or rock-hard chairs just to prevent the burning heat of the sun. But since I’m a guy, I need to give way to the girls and the oldies as well.
            Like what I’ve expressed, I’m still amused by commuting in tricycles. You get to see inevitable changes unfold right in front your very eyes. Although it is a rural scenery while traveling along our place, one may notice that wide rice fields are now turning into expansive housing subdivisions. The kantos and kalyes I came familiar with in my day to day ride are giving birth to computer shops, big sari-sari stores, apparel shops, batchoyan, and refilling stations. Barangay chapels are renovated and made more beautiful for the dwellers. Small, kawayan houses turn into concrete ones. Trisikads and tricycles doubled in population, reflecting the increase of residents in our area. Companies arise such as the ice plant and the factory that dresses chicken, providing jobs to the residents.
            Nevertheless, some things remained unaltered. You still get to see a hardworking person in his trisikad who buys scraps in the neighborhood and a man vending in his bicycle a load of chicharon, hoping someone will buy. There is also a guy patiently carrying on his back a furniture which he eagerly sells from house to house.  A mother entices you to eat her freshly prepared bitso-bitso, pancakes, aripahol, and banana cue just to have something to give for her children she sends to school in the nearby public school.
            Good thing, there are still rice fields that relax your tired eyes with its green, refreshing view. I’m glad that trees giving off clean, cool air remain standing in its roots. I smiled on that one time I saw a blue bird swiftly fly past our backyard. I smiled for its existence. I adore the sight of colorful, graceful butterflies hovering on flowers that embellish the streets.
            Like what I’ve said, eversince I was a kid accompanied by my tita or mom in these tricycle rides, our road has been rough and rocky and unpaved. Now that I am commuting on my own, it is still is. I am yet uncertain of the time where residents would experience a smooth ride without having to worry about the mud spattering on their clothes. For now, I’ll continue to enjoy this bouncy and jerky journey and be mesmerized with the amazing changes occurring in the corners of the streets I have been acquainted to as time flies by.

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