So I've signed up for a car rally that comes up later this month. No, it's not some thousand people tearing bumpers off each others' cars or kissing lamp posts in a bid to wind up trumps, but 300-odd women, in an all-women's rally, supporting a cause of their choice. How it works is nice - you don't have to turn into roadkill, or worse, turn innocent bystanders in to the same, but drive along at a good - if steady - pace, and any kind of rash driving/ crossing speed limits gets you penalised. The more penalties, well, too bad - you'll be (a) driving all day, and (b) coming last... waaaaay last. Kinda diametrically opposite to the conventional definition (or human understanding) of a car rally. I like. And ergo, we come to sentence one of this extremely long-winded paragraph - So I've signed up for a car rally that comes up later this month.
Right now, though, it's fingers crossed - given the large number of enthusiastic ladies in this part of the world, there's obviously a limited number that will make it through - that 300-odd mentioned earlier. How do you get to be one of them? Well, you register, and then get your family, friends, co-workers, the lady who smiles at you in line at the convenience store, the cute guy at the gym (hmm, this should garner a good number of votes, methinks), neighbours, babysitter... uhh, you get the drift... to vote for you via email and/ or SMS. And I see you asking me to stop rambling on, so... The more the votes, the better your chances of driving through, supporting your cause, your car reflecting the same (yes! you can decorate), the wind in your hair (no, I do not drive an open-top convertible, sigh) and a (tuneless, in my case) song on your lips.
As I type, the leading lady apparently has over 6000 (whaaaaat??!!) votes... and I'm guesstimating at a less than 1000 for myself. Ahem.
Watch this space for more. And wish me luck. And votes - loads and loads of votes.