A thousand scooters neatly lined up in rows, a thousand handle bars locked to the left, a thousand pairs of rear view mirrors reflecting the sky. Although similar, the scooters are different: different make, different size, different color. The mirrors are all the same, a vaguely rectangular shape on the end of a crocked stick, the silvery surface colored a bright sky blue. To a foreigner like me, this mass of two-wheeled vehicles is both amazing and bewildering all at once. Newcomers inevitably ask themselves how can there be so many of them while we have so few? How do you distinguish yours from all the others in the parking lot? How does anyone dare to drive in all that mad traffic? Yet in this brilliant sea of sky reflections I have my own pair of mirrors that will help me make my way home. Yes I am a foreigner in this country but I am not a newcomer, when I drive a scooter, I am one of the natives.