The roads had finally cleared up a bit, untying itself of those stubborn traffic knots and pesky tricycles, eventually evening out into a smooth flowing pace, allowing us to build up a nice steady rhythm. The driving surface began to feel more like glass than the hard, moldy cheese we had just spent the last couple of hours on, but it was all starting to collect its toll. Don’t get me wrong, the suspension had been doing a terrific job of soaking up all those years of the DPWH’s neglect, but now that we were in more well-funded territory, the Pacifica had managed to lull me into the deepest sleep.

Nestled into the electronically reclined, fragrant leather seat up front, with the climate control set to an extremely comfortable 20 degrees and the Infinity sound system pouring out smooth jazzy tunes, it was only a matter of minutes before I drifted off to that happy place in my head where I have this recurring dream involving Angelina Jolie, a tropical island, cold beer and plenty of red jello.

It was just before sunrise by the time we entered Laoag. A gentle mist rolled over the layered Cordillera mountain ranges as the soft shards of the early morning light peered through the distant hills, passing through the window and warming my face.

You couldn’t really ask for a better way to wake up after a long road trip.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and peered out of the window to see a stunning daybreak scene unfolding across the lush, green, rolling hills of Ilocos Norte. My good buddy, and on air partner for Counterflow’s radio edition, Alan (Ranch) Sevilla was totally passed out in the captain’s chair behind me, making all sorts of unusual sleeping noises. I yawned, stretched my arms out and tossed a glance at our designated driver, Ardie Lopez from Solar Sports’ Auto Extreme, who had been driving for the last 4 hours or so, and was horrified to see him with one hand on the wheel, his neck cocked 90 degrees, resting on his own shoulder, also fast asleep. At 120 km/h.

I didn’t know whether to scream like a schoolgirl, reach for the wheel and possibly frighten the bejezus out of him, so I just let out this pathetic, “Pare…” I’ve never really regained complete control of my bladder since then.

He lets out this roar of a laugh that he seemed to have summoned all the way from his toes and started convulsing with delight; ecstatic with the fact that it’s Ardie 1, James zero.

Okay, you got me. Ha ha.

Alan is woken up abruptly by Ardie’s hysterical laughter, which by this stage, was entering its fifth or sixth minute already. Ardie did his best to explain what was so funny, but it was one of those ‘you-had-to-be-there-and-see-his-face’ type of things that gets robbed of all its’ spontaneity when re-enacted. This is what many therapists would refer to as cabin fever.

We had driven through the night, each of us taking turns behind the wheel of Chrysler’s ultimate touring machine, but by the 10th hour, this is what we were reduced to. It’s not natural for three grown men to spend that much time with each other in such an enclosed space, regardless of how opulent and well appointed it may be. Someone was bound to crack.

Imagine staring into the unlit road ahead, watching the hypnotic effect of those white lines getting swallowed up by that huge gaping grille of the Pacifica, with absolutely no end in sight. You begin to ask yourself if the whole idea ever made sense to begin with; I mean, seriously; ten hours on Philippine roads ranks up there with imprisonment for some people. Would it all be worth it?

As if offended by the question, Mother Nature herself answered it as we crossed the Bridge to go into the town proper of the provincial capital. We looked out the window and were left completely speechless by this living landscape that had been kissed by a breath of rolling fog floating weightlessly over a magical scene that would make an artist weep. It was the only thing that got Ardie to stop laughing.

Right smack bang in the middle of the road, Ardie stomps on the stoppers and jumps out to get his camera. We must have fired a hundred shots knowing that the magic of the scene was all in the timing and that its’ beauty would be as fleeting as a teenage orgasm, so we needed to work fast. In another couple of minutes, the sun would have risen just high enough to melt the gentle fog and take away the deep, rich violet and orange hues that framed the mountains with a glowing back light that could never be reproduced in any studio or image editing software.

This was God’s canvas. And we were all humbled by the opportunity to have witnessed his final master strokes just before he gave birth to a brand new day. To think we had just arrived. The benchmark had been set. Welcome to Laoag, the Ilocano term for ‘the place for light and clarity.’

It was once the seat of power in this country, with one of its most famous sons occupying the highest post in the land for twenty years. Needless to say, Ilocos Norte benefited greatly from the Marcos regime, and his influence can still be felt a full twenty years later. Roads are still good; it boasts of the only 5 star hotel, resort and casino in Northern Philippines; the international airport offers 45 minute direct flights to Hong Kong and a 30 minute leap to Taiwan. There was even a time when Philippine Airlines flew straight to Hawaii non stop.

We pulled into our hotel just long enough to grab a shower, a change of clothes and dump all our gear. We didn’t drive 10 hours straight through the night just to spend our two days here sleeping through any of it. Besides, two days barely skims the surface – there’s the fabulous Ilocos Lighthouse; the sinking bell tower; the La Paz sand dunes, the white sandy beaches of Pagudpud; the Malacanang of the North; the Marcos museum, where his body still lies perfectly preserved; the awesome Bangui windmills and the St Agustine church in Paoay, which was built in 1593, just for starters.

Getting to these places would normally pose a different challenge, but the Pacifica had been the perfect partner for exploring whatever the area could throw at us. With its all-wheel drive capability – minus the girth of a gargantuan SUV – a powerful and recently upgraded 4.0 liter engine that winds out a thumping 265 pounds of torque and 255 horsepower, hooked up to a fabulous new six speed automatic box, it becomes a luxury crossover vehicle that is limited only by your sense of adventure. It seats 7 people in absolute comfort or four adults in their own chairs plus enough luggage space for a Paris Hilton shopping spree. And we weren’t the only ones that thought so.

Walking back to our rooms after an intensely satisfying native meal of longanisa, garlic rice, charcoal grilled fish, bulalo and a pinakbet that should need to carry its own license for being so deadly, we were stopped by a group of distinguished looking gentlemen having a couple of drinks out the front of the Northview hotel. I made a comment about the screaming blue FJ Landcruiser as we walked past. “Excuse me, you are James Deakin, right?” this one fellow piped up. “Please join us. We read your articles all the time and were just admiring that fabulous vehicle you have there.” I’ve never been one to turn down a free beer, so before I knew it, I was in the thick of it, rehashing the story of that juvenile prank that Ardie played on me and yakking away like truck without brakes. “I’d like you to meet Mayor Roger Farinas” was the last thing I heard before trying to take my foot out of my mouth.

We sat and swapped car stories for a couple of hours. Turns out that the mayor, who is sitting out one term before running again in the next elections, is a certifiable car fanatic that owns one of the most enviable collections of cars, including a Cayenne, an ML, a Range Rover and the bright blue FJ Land cruiser parked right up front. “Mind if we take a spin in your car?” the good mayor asked. Now – there’s not a culture known to man where it would be a good idea to say no to the mayor of the very place you’re visiting, whether he currently holds office or not, so you don’t um or ah – you have to think like Nike and ‘Just do it’

So, before I knew it, while Ardie and Alan slept soundly in their rooms, I now found myself driving the Mayor and the owner of the Northview Hotel around Laoag in the middle of the night. I really don’t know how I get myself into situations like this, but as surreal as it all was, there I was in a city I had just arrived in, after sleeping just four hours in the last 48, touring the main man himself around his own town. Go figure. “Would you like to drive, sir?” I asked, remembering our earlier conversation and how he prided himself on not using a driver when he used to make his fortnightly trips down to Manila. “Sure”, the answer came thick and fast.

I pulled over just before Fort Ilocandia Casino, on a long, straight road that could make just about any car break a sweat. He doesn’t take any time to get used to the car. He seems to know where everything is and doesn’t fumble with anything, whether it’s the electric seats, the steering column adjustment or stereo. He’s right at home. He floors it, but with mindful restraint. He’s focused and seems to be absorbing the whole experience with total confidence and doesn’t stoop to offering up any mindless chatter that most people do when they are either trying to impress you or when they have no idea what they are doing.

He knows these roads, and he knows his cars; and he’s a very good driver. After about ten minutes of silence, I finally ask, “What do you think?” “It has the ride of my ML and is as easy to drive as one of my favorite cars, the Chrysler Town and Country.” He said decisively. “I like it. In fact, I may just call my friend Felix Ang of CATS motors and make him an offer on this particular unit – now that you guys have devalued it, of course. Just check your tire pressure – it feels somewhere between 39-40 psi. Drop it down to 31 and you’ll get a much better ride.”

I knew this of course, but I didn’t want to embarrass the mayor.

By sunset the next day, we were off to Vigan for a night and then home. We juiced up at the nearest Shell Service Station and I had the attendant check our tires. I’ll be damned. Some tires were 39psi and some were 40. I dropped them to 31 all around. It felt like driving on a cloud. That hard, moldy cheese surface of before felt more like cottage cheese now. Although personally, I felt as sharp as oatmeal for not checking the pressures when I picked the car up. Of course I told Ardie and Alan that I was the one that felt that the tires were over inflated.

Once we found a good cruising speed, we started to average around 9 kilometers a liter, which was a marked improvement. On the way up, with Ardie allowing himself to get intoxicated by the power and jabbing the throttle like a bass drum, we only managed 6. We all agreed that if we kept it up, it would eat into our food budget. And all we had was a lot of longanisa that was given to us as a farewell gift. And if you’ve ever shared a car with anyone that has eaten longanisa…well, you’ll know that when it repeats itself on you its enough to peel paint off.

We needed a plan.

There was enough V Power to get us back down to Manila if we drove like there was a raw egg under the throttle. Sure we could have made it even further than Manila on one tank if we really tried, but as crazy as it may sound, we actually had some intention of enjoying ourselves along the way and not getting overtaken by tricycles.

I know a lot has been said and done about economy runs. And that’s very noble indeed. But, as precious as every drop of fuel may be, I think some people may have lost sight of the big picture, which for me, is simply the joy of motoring. There’s no better way to enjoy this beautiful country of ours than through the windows of a car that you love. The kind of car that’s like a member of the family, and by using it, it becomes sort of like part of your holiday. After all, a good car should not be measured in miles, but the smiles that happened along the way.