I've lived in Kaohsiung for several years, yet I still can't get used to driving here. There are far too many motorcycles, and they're incredibly aggressive. They never stick to the right side of the road. Instead, they appear from the left, the front, and constantly shift lanes depending on traffic. When traffic is heavy, they surround your car from all sides, like an escort convoy pushing you forward—but you have no control over speed or direction. It feels as if your car has been hijacked by a gang of biker bandits.Everyone knows you can't turn right on red—but in Kaohsiung, you can't turn right on green either. It's not that traffic rules have changed. When the light turns green and you attempt a right turn, motorcycles on your right keep charging straight ahead, refusing to yield. Even if you've signaled and slowly edged right, they zip past on your right side without a hint of concern that you might hit them. Once, when my car was nearly at a 45-degree angle, a motorbike suddenly swerved from my right, cutting across my front. I slammed on the brakes in panic. The rider leaned his bike 45 degrees to the left, speeding away like a professional racer.So when can you turn right?

Not on yellow, either—motorcyclists rush through yellow lights even faster. The only chance is the split second after your light turns red, before the opposite side turns green. If you miss it, you must wait for the next red light.This is daily driving life in Kaohsiung.So when a motorbike appeared in my left-side rearview mirror, I immediately tensed up. If my car drifted slightly left, I might knock her over. She could suddenly cut in front of me and get hit. I decided to follow the 'driving etiquette' I've learned over the years—slow down and let her pass. Fine, I'm scared of you, okay?

But she didn't speed ahead. Instead, she matched my pace, keeping parallel. There was no car ahead—she could have zoomed past easily. Instead, she felt like a motorbike assassin from a movie, ready to pull up beside my window and fire a shot.I looked closer. It was a young girl wearing a Hello Kitty helmet and a pink mask, riding a pale yellow 50cc scooter. She looked completely harmless. Why was she insistently staying in my left rear?

This is dangerous, little girl.Suddenly—BANG! My car was hit from the left. I thought, 'Oh no!

' and quickly pulled over, opened the door, and stepped out. My car hadn't drifted. It must have been her fault—so liability should be clear...But beside my parked car, there was no fallen motorcycle, no girl on the ground, no helmet rolling away. Only a mysterious stain on the ground—oil or blood, I couldn't tell. I walked around the car—nothing. Motorcycles roared past, indifferent. Cars behind me tried to detour into the opposite lane, but oncoming traffic blocked them. Horns blared, sounding like curses.After circling the car twice to confirm I wasn't fleeing the scene, I got back in and restarted the engine. Did someone hit me and flee?

Avoiding responsibility? Then I realized—I hadn't checked the car body.I parked at the art museum lot and inspected the left side. Sure enough, the rear door was dented, with traces of yellow paint. I had definitely been hit!

But the culprit vanished instantly. This means my third-party insurance won't cover it. What a terrible day.'This is definitely a hit-and-run! One hundred percent! ' the mechanic declared, examining the damage. 'It's serious! Did the rider fly off? ''I didn't see anyone.''Impossible!

' he said, eyes and mouth wide open. 'Such a strong impact—someone should have fallen. How could they just disappear? Even if they ran, they'd have to pick up the bike first. Did you drive a bit before stopping? ''No way!

I stopped immediately and got out—there was no one, no bike. It was like they vanished into thin air.''Hmm...' He thought hard. 'I get it! ''What? What is it? ' I asked urgently.A sly grin spread across his face. 'You got hit by a ghost.'I punched his arm. 'You're the money ghost! How much for repairs?

How long will it take? ''It needs dent repair and repainting...' I stopped listening. My eyes caught the large calendar on the wall. Today was the first day of the seventh lunar month—the Ghost Month opening. Could it be? Did I really get hit by a ghost? Next question: Are there motorbike-riding ghosts?

Three days later, the car was fixed. The mechanic claimed he gave me a discount, but I still felt the pain. Worse, shortly after leaving the shop, another motorbike appeared in my rearview mirror.Motorcycles usually ride on the outermost lane, but during traffic jams, some squeeze between two rows of cars on the left. Rearview mirrors often get knocked askew with a 'snap!

' and the rider speeds off without looking back. You're stuck in traffic, fuming, unable to chase them down.But now, the right side was empty. Why was this rider deliberately staying in my left rear? Was it a 'crash scam' to extort money?

Once, I forgot to signal a left turn and lightly bumped a motorbike. No repairs were needed, yet I had to pay medical fees, compensation for lost wages, and even emotional distress damages. I bit my tongue and didn't file an insurance claim—otherwise, next year's premium would skyrocket.I couldn't let this 'tragedy' repeat. I slowed down and moved toward the curb. Then—BANG!

The car was hit from behind. I thought, 'It's over.'I quickly stopped and got out, but saw no person, no motorcycle. Yet the rear bumper was clearly dented, with traces of yellow paint. Could it be...? On the roadside drain cover sat a pink Hello Kitty helmet, still gently swaying.This time, there was 'evidence'!

A real accident occurred—but no person, no bike. Should I take this helmet to the police or file an insurance claim?

They'd think I was committing fraud.This time, I didn't rush to repair the car. I looked around and spotted a surveillance camera. I went to the police station and requested to view the footage. The officer at the counter asked, 'Are you filing a report?

' I said no, so he refused. I mentioned I knew a certain councilor—he gave a cold laugh and went back to his paperwork.I made several calls outside the station, finally reaching a councilor's assistant. 'No problem,' he said. 'Go back in two minutes.'When I returned, the officer reluctantly stood up, slowly led me to a small room, briefly explained how to operate the computer, then left without a word.Is this really allowed?

Is the police too trusting, or is the councilor too powerful? I struggled to find the footage from the incident. It looked like the same girl from a few days ago—the same scooter (both repaired?

). The camera was positioned to my right front. She followed in my left rear, then suddenly veered right close to my car (the video had no sound), and fell. I stopped and got out, but my car blocked the view of the fallen motorcycle. This proved nothing.Unsatisfied, I painstakingly searched for the footage from three days prior. Different location made it hell to find. My eyes nearly gave out, but I finally located it!

This time, the camera was directly to my right. It captured a motorbike approaching from my left rear, getting very close, then falling. I stopped and got out—but again, the fallen bike wasn't visible. Only me, like a headless chicken, circling the car.All that effort—completely useless!

Too convenient. Was she skilled enough to avoid cameras? Or did she 'teleport'? What was her motive?

'Don't get involved with her. It's July—nobody knows what it is. You should go to a temple and calm your spirit,' the mechanic said, perhaps feeling sorry for me. This time, he didn't overcharge. 'I'll find a used bumper... Yeah, that kind. Won't cost much.'It didn't comfort me. I'm a staunch atheist, never believing in the supernatural. This event is strange, but there must be a rational explanation—I just haven't found it yet.I posted both bizarre encounters on Facebook. The response was overwhelming—more likes, comments, and shares than ever. But every single comment said I'd encountered a ghost. Some offered solutions; others shared similar experiences. Among hundreds of comments, not one shared my view. The more I read, the lonelier I felt.Then, one comment appeared:'I'm sorry for troubling you repeatedly. I have a favor to ask.'The profile picture was the pink Hello Kitty helmet. It was her!

'What do you want? ' I typed, then realized it sounded too harsh. I deleted and rewrote: 'What is it? 'No reply. I thought again and sent a private message. Still nothing. Other comments kept coming, but none from her. Was she playing a prank? Just bored?

Frustrated, I shut off my phone and went to bed. I had to wake up early tomorrow to take the bus to work (the car was still