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EVERY time I’m on a plane, I keep thinking, “This
is the day I die.” I half-expect the plane to either plummet from
engine failure or explode in a ball of fire from a collision. Which
makes it unfair to my companions, because they have no idea
they’re dying with me. I feel most vulnerable during a flight,
seeing that only the invisible hand of God is suspending the
aircraft high up in the clouds. And knowing how I haven’t exactly
led a holy life the past few years, the Owner of the hand clutching
my plane probably doesn’t like me very much these days.
This mild fear of flying is
exactly the reason I don’t particularly look forward to overseas
trips. That and the trouble of having to lose your shoes, belt,
jacket and some measure of dignity at airport checkpoints. Oh, and
there’s the matter of getting a visa, an unpleasant experience
especially if you’re the type who detests long queues and
condescending embassy personnel. I’ve sent people to Austria,
Greece and Monaco on account of this. (Yes, I’m an idiot.) So you
see, there needs to be an earth-shaking development for me to muster
enough interest—and courage—to endure 14 hours of being
airborne.
Well, I just came back from a
10-day visit of the United States, and the earth-shaking development
here wasn’t really the fact that BMW launched a part-SUV/part-coupe
vehicle called the X6. Okay, the X6 drive in South Carolina was
probably a seven on the Richter scale. But what really got me
falling in line at the US Embassy to secure a visa was the
opportunity to see my parents in New Jersey along the way.
“Why do you want to go to the
United States?” asked the US embassy screener. “I will
test-drive a new vehicle” was my quick reply.
“You’re going to the US to
test-drive a vehicle?” the screener shot back in apparent
disbelief. “Why? What exactly do you do?”
“I’m a car journalist,” I
said. “I will drive a new vehicle by BMW.”
“It doesn’t make sense,”
countered the screener. “BMWs are made in Germany. Why drive it in
the US?”
“I have no explanation for
that; I was just invited,” I said rather smugly. Of course, I did
have an explanation for that: BMW has an assembly plant in
Spartanburg in South Carolina. But I felt it wasn’t my job to
educate clueless people on automotive matters. And I had no desire
to participate in a question-and-answer exchange that was really
only designed to find out if I had any intentions of becoming an
illegal alien in America.
“Good answer,” the screener
blurted out, perhaps sensing I wasn’t exactly dying to go to his
country. He gave me a journalist’s visa, good for five years. He
reminded me that I can’t use this visa as a tourist—a reminder I
could have used six years ago when I was almost deported back home
upon arrival on US soil. I went to the States in 2002 to visit my
parents, not realizing I had a journalist’s visa. I was sent to
what they called a yellow room and was interrogated by an
immigration officer. Good thing I was wearing a Jaguar F1 shirt
then, because the officer turned out to be a huge motor sports fan.
“You are not visiting your
parents,” the officer ordered, winking. “You are going to the
New York Auto Show. Are we clear?” Yessir, Tom Cruise crystal.
For my New Jersey excursion after
the X6 drive, Ford Motor Co. generously lent me a Lincoln MKX
sport-utility. My Uncle Rommel—“Remigio” to his childhood
friends in the Philippines—drove me and my father in his Nissan
Altima to Ford’s dealership in Manhattan in New York City to pick
up the press vehicle. Interestingly, every car that went into New
York had to pay a toll of $8. This was to encourage people to take
public transportation instead and help alleviate NYC’s traffic
congestion.
Lincoln, of course, is Ford’s
luxury brand. You will recall that Ford Group Phils. brought in the
Lincoln Town Car full-size sedan nearly a decade ago. Unfortunately,
there were not too many takers. The MKX is the upscale twin model of
Ford’s very own Edge. I actually wanted to borrow the Edge but no
unit was available, so I settled for its tuxedoed alter ego. Looking
back, I should have requested for a Mustang because my father is
totally in love with this car—so much so that he repulsed my every
attempt to point out the fact that smaller, cheaper and
environment-friendlier Japanese cars suited him best.
For all of the MKX’s luxurious
qualities, I was most enthralled by its navigation system. This was
my first time to drive around in a foreign place using a satnav. I
had used it in Europe before but I also had a roadbook at my
disposal then. So in essence, this was the first time I wholly
trusted a navigation system. The system is God’s gift to drivers
with no sense of direction—drivers like me. It is so accurate it
will lead you to your front door. I’m thinking it would be so nice
if we had this in the Philippines, but the system would probably
conk out just trying to keep up with the MMDA’s whimsical route
management.
Speed limits are everywhere in
the US, even in seemingly out-of-the-way side streets. Amazingly,
everyone observes these limits. In my one week of driving there, not
once did I see a speeding car or one that beat the red light. Of
course, this could probably be just due to the fact that neither
Britney Spears nor Paris Hilton lives in New Jersey. The traffic
lights do not even have a turn-left signal. Everyone simply gives
way and only proceeds when the path is clear.
It is refreshing to share the
road with law-abiding, educated drivers. I found driving so easy and
comfortable that I offered to drive my parents every day to work.
When I arrived in Manila Sunday night, I put in my Facebook
profile—required by my company, or so I tell people—that “I
have realized so much in a week.” One of these realizations is
that nothing beats being with your family.
Another is that—in the event
you can’t be with your family—nothing beats knowing they live in
a safe environment where people fasten their seatbelts and drivers
patiently wait for elderly folks to cross the street.
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