𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗹𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗚𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗱 𝗟𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗮

On January 26, 2025, along the winding Marilaque Highway in Tanay, Rizal, John Louie Arguelles, dubbed the “Superman of Marilaque,” turned thrill into tragedy. This motovlogger, in a reckless bid for online glory, lay flat on his bike, legs up, chest down, mimicking the superhero mid-flight.

Speeding alongside another rider, he collided, lost control, and slammed into a barrier, killing himself and injuring six bystanders. The viral video of his fatal stunt isn’t just a cautionary tale; it’s a blaring siren that our roads are out of control, and this writer can’t wait another second to dissect why.

The Philippines is drowning in motorcycles. They’re everywhere, zigzagging through traffic like kamikaze pilots, squeezing into impossible spaces, and turning intersections into Russian roulette. The LTO counts 8.5 million registered bikes by 2022, over half of the nation’s 13.8 million vehicles, with nearly 2 million more sold in 2023. Why? Most Filipinos can’t afford cars, their Toyota dreams crushed by stagnant wages and inflation that leaves wallets gasping.

Public transportation offers no salvation: buses older than your lolo’s war stories, jeepneys crawling slower than a funeral march. Motorcycles become the great equalizer: cheap, fast, accessible. Yet they’re death traps, with Metro Manila’s MMDA logging 58 daily crashes, over 21,000 yearly, and the WHO noting 5,970 nationwide deaths in 2016, more than half of all road fatalities.

Dealers fuel this frenzy with a salesman’s grin. Honda dangles the Click 125i for P80,900, hooked to “easy” installments—P3,000 down, P2,500 a month, ride away today. But Rusi takes it to the gutter: their DL 100 goes for as low as P38,000 cash, or P1,500 down and P1,800 monthly, a price so cheap it’s practically begging every tricycle driver and sari-sari clerk to hop on. Ads scream freedom, status, escape from traffic hell, no credit checks, just a handshake and a prayer. Compare that to the cheapest new sedan, the Toyota Wigo, at P609,000—a half-million-peso chasm that’s a lifetime of savings for most. Affordability isn’t just the bait; it’s the whole trap, and Rusi’s dirt-cheap deals are the bottom rung.

I’ve seen the worst of it myself, driving up and down MacArthur Highway in Pampanga and Angeles City. Just last month, I nearly flattened a rider who shot through a red light like a bullet, no helmet, no glance, just pure arrogance. Another time, a guy swerved into my lane without a signal, balancing a kid on his lap and a sack of rice behind him; I slammed the brakes so hard my coffee spilled. Then there are the tailgaters, so close I could see their smirks in my rearview, overtaking on the shoulder, kicking up dust like they’re in a rally race. I’ve dodged texting riders too, one hand on the phone, barely gripping the bars, nearly forcing me into a tricycle.

But one incident still haunts me. Last June, on a local road near SM Telabastagan, , I signaled to turn left when a young rider, speeding like a maniac, cut me off on the inside as he attempted to pass four vehicles approaching an intersection. He smashed into my driver-side wheel with a sickening crunch, blew out my SUV’s tire, and slid across the asphalt. His bike clipped another rider who’d stopped, and the kid ended up with legs gashed. No helmet, of course; turns out he was a minor, no license, no sense. The impact rang in my ears for days, a reminder of how close I came to being the villain in his reckless story.

Reckless driving is a plague. Riders treat traffic rules like suggestions, weaving through traffic like they’re in “Fast and Furious: Barrio Edition.” Helmets are optional, mirrors decorative, turn signals a myth. That’s the reality, though not idealand neither legal.
The PNP tallied 4,029 motorcycle crashes in early 2023, projecting over 12,000 for the year. Arguelles’ stunt wasn’t an outlier; it’s the norm amplified for likes.

Who’s to blame? Riders who don’t respect the law and physics deserve a reckoning, but the system is rotten too. Licensing laws are a farce; with 8.5 million bikes, the LTO prioritizes fees over competence. Enforcement is a punchline, cops pocketing P100 bribes while chaos reigns. Roads are pothole-ridden nightmares, lacking signs or reflectors, just a prayer and a dream. The DPWH’s “world-class infrastructure” is a broken promise, leaving 22% of Metro Manila’s 2023 accidents tied to motorcycles.
Here’s the thing: maybe we deserve this mess. We romanticize the Filipino “diskarte,” cheering riders who outsmart traffic, then mourn when they crash like Arguelles or bleed out like that kid.

Politicians revel in it: 8.5 million bikes mean voters too distracted by potholes to question the MRT’s breakdowns. It’s a vicious cycle, spinning us to hell.

So, is this surge a boon or a bane? It’s freedom for the poor, anarchy for the rest, and 21,000 annual Metro Manila crashes don’t lie. Until we fix roads, enforce laws, and ditch our shortcut obsession, we’re trapped in this two-wheeled dystopia. Arguelles’ death and my near-misses on MacArthur, especially that tire-blowing kid, are our wake-up call; ignore it, and we’re next.