Into Traffic

The black scooter carries me above the pavement at 70 kilometers an hour. The sound of a thousand engines blends with constant wind. Wind presses against my face and pulls at my shirt.

In front of me is a line of traffic, unending. The truck ahead releases clouds of black unburned diesel that sting my nostrils. The thin buff I’m wearing does little to prevent it. In front of me in the opposite direction is a mix of Fuso trucks, scooters, and small cars packed tightly into a single stream. I hold my breath. There is no room to move.

A momentary break opens in the oncoming traffic to my right. My hand engages the throttle. The gap closes and another scooter fills the space to my left. Riders masked and helmeted, surfboards in racks, backpacks bungee-corded to passenger seats. Traffic, speed, noise, exhaust. The space narrows again.

Lombok, Indonesia - February 2, 2017