I love driving. Really love it. I own a 1998 Mazda MX-5 in bright red, and she's my pride and joy. I tend to close my eyes when the time comes to refuel and simply hand over my credit card.
And now that the weather is warming up here in Brisbane, it's time to start letting the roof down.
A deprived friend of mine had never been in a convertible with the roof down before, so we fixed that this morning. I made sure to take all of my favourite roads, and made a bit of a hoon of myself. We stayed out on the roads for an hour and a half, had lunch on the beach (best calamari I've ever eaten; I'm not kidding), and drove back. Needless to say, I'm not the same colour I was when we left. My upper arms and forehead are a brilliant shade of pink. My nose is an over-ripe strawberry. Oh, my.
Somehow, I hadn't expected this. How is it that I forget every single year? It's never a pleasant experience, and I thought for sure I wouldn't make the mistake this time. I remembered to layer on the sunscreen frequently when I went sailing only a few days ago. And yet, my holiday photographs next week in NZ are all going to feature my spectacularly peeling face-strawberry.
I've managed to avoid showing my annual sunburn to my mother for the last few seasons, but this time there'll be no getting around it. She's going to insist on seeing my holiday snaps, and I don't have a valid reason to hide them. Oh, sure, my camera died a month or so back. My friends and fellow travellers, however, own fully-functional shock- and water-proof contraptions, and this technological age ensures that copies are extraordinarily easy to obtain and distribute. So I'll be getting the skin-cancer lecture again. I really do know the risks, mother dearest. That's why I only need to be reminded once a year.
My friend may have suffered an extra shade on his tan. In case you were wondering.
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