The description ply-by-night fits them to a T. T as in tricycles without numbers. Their time of choice? Wait until dark. Like aging prostitutes, they prowl the dark streets of the city hoping to accommodate unsuspecting customers. The ubiquitous tricycles and why in heaven's name are we so occupied about them, this time? Why give a damn to a small business like tricycle operations?

Yes soiree, what's so important about the ordinary three-wheeled public transport that they earn precious space in this column? Before our dear readers will deliver us to oblivion as a trying hard column writer, let this BGlante argue his case before this story is thrown to the circular file.

Our idea of tricycles plying the streets of this city is that they are covered with all the legal requirements of city hall to legitimize their operations. Thus, the bragging right of calling them the king of the road, belong to them. So, what the heck are we talking about when it is expected that tricycle operations are above board because they follow the stringent requirements of city hall. Maybe unknown to many city tricycle riders, legitimate trike operators are crying foul due to the presence of competitors who threaten their day and night earnings. While law-abiding operators are religiously paying their city hall dues for fear of being apprehended, their competitors are on the prowl after dusk giving them a run of their nightly take. The clamor of the legal ones? Level the playing field by forcing them to pay what is prescribed by law to legalize their operations.

Speaking of ply-by-night tricycles, they are, what they are—ply-by-night. Operating more as colorums, they ply the streets of Tagbilaran under cover of darkness. Thus, earning them the moniker, the king of darkness. With night time as their period of operations, that's the time they feel safe from the clutches of the law and operate with impunity while law enforcers are enjoying a good night sleep. When day time comes, these ply-by-nite creatures are back in their hidden cocoons waiting for dark to set in. Like witches, they ply their trade during night time because during the day the streets of Tagbilaran are crawling with traffic enforcers who are ready to pounce on them at the first sign of seeing tricycles with no body number picking up passengers. What to do with these bootleggers plying our streets?

While we sympathize with these “illegals”, we are looking at public safety as the primary consideration to protect the lives of riders. Our sympathy goes to them knowing that they are also making a living. But how far can we tolerate their illicit operations knowing that the life of riders are at stake here because, for one, they are not covered by any insurance policy. Registered as private vehicles, the street impostors are not covered by any passenger liability. It is therefore, ride at your own risk. Risks, and there are lots of them. For example, riding in unnumbered tricycles, a rider runs the risk of exposing the passenger to accidents. What if the colorum meet an accident because in most cases it treads in the dark corners of the city where the presence of lawmen are nowhere to be found. Sometimes, trouble sets in when the passenger reports the accident to the police for blotter purposes. Most often than not, the most likely question from the police on duty is what's the number of the tricycle. Since there is none, then the inquisitive cop would rather ask the color of the vehicle the rider takes. Color? The rider just shook his head because he can not distinguish if it was psychedelic or a riot of colors. There you go. In exasperation, the harried policeman admonished the equally harassed rider, that next time, do not ride in tricycles without body numbers. Because In times of trouble, you are always at the losing end.