Bathurst 1000 AKA The one where I give in to gender stereotypes...and stick it to my husband!

Today is officially the most boring day in Australia's sporting year. Well, to anyone with half a brain, anyway.

Today is Race Day at the Bathurst 1000 V8 something-or-other. It's something like 10 interminable hours of watching cars drone around a race track. On a mountain. Getting absolutely nowhere. Did I mention that it goes all day? As in, it starts at something like 9.30. And it won't finish until after 5. By which time the entire nation will have atrophied.


Image from Sporttours.com.au

Now. Here's the thing. It's important to explain to people who might have stumbled upon my blog from elsewhere.

Here, in Australia. You have to choose. I mean it. By the time you're in first grade, you're either a Ford or a Holden. It's just the way it is here. Americans are either Republicans or Democrats. The Brits are either Labor or Conservative (yes, I'm generalising here). In Ireland you're a Catholic or a Prodestant.

Here, in Australia, you're a Ford or a Holden.

Tragic? Abso-freaking-lutely. The truth is that here we (for the most part) tend to feel more passionately about our sport than our politics.


Image from drive.com.au


Image of a crap Ford from pulsesport.com


So, today is the day that men become mindless drones, sitting on the sofa with a bag of chips and a beer. They watch the cars go around and around. They curse every now and again. They get up to pee. They sit back down and watch the cars go around and around. For freaking hours, people. Hours. Women all over the country walk around the house naked, seeing how many times they can distract their husbands.

(Score Melissa-1 Bathurst - 0, Joel is still trying for Round2 ).

And of course, they influence their children. You need to form good little ford and holden children. In fact, I honestly could not tell you if there is any other type (brand/make) of car in the race.


I'm a Holden girl. I made this important life decision at around the age of 5. My favourite uncle had a holden. He seemed to like them. I dont' know that we ever discussed it. But, whatever the case, I remember in Year One, clearly and proudly (and astoundingly certain of myself) identifying myself as a Holden. To a group of my classmates. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure that Paula
b!tch that terrorised me for 2 years was a Ford supporter. Explains a lot, really. She was a nasty piece of work.


Here's where we run into problems. It's my fault. I absolutely should have checked on this before I married Joel. I think the combinations of the following facts
a)I really, really liked him
b)he kind of made me tingle in a very lovely way
c)That thing he does with his tongue behind my ear and
d) I could not possibly give less of a crap about V8Supercars,

may have in fact blinded me to an important personality flaw.

Joel is a Ford Man. Ford. Can you believe it? Neither can I people. I know, you're shaking your heads there. Your high opinion of my husband just took a freefall, right? I'm hearing your cries of "Get out now! While you still can!Won't somebody think of the children? Don't bring them up in this environment!". And I appreciate it. You think you're disgusted? I have to sleep with him!

So here we are today, race day. I would rather insert bamboo skewers into my eyes than watch a single lap. I'd rather actually touch a cane toad (my biggest phobia) than sit through 5 minutes of anyone talking about this crap.

But. I'm a mother. And a good one at that. I take my responsibility seriously. So while Joel was unwittingly changing Samuel's disgustingly stinky bum, I took Alexander aside.

We sat, and watched the beginning of the broadcast. And I explained to him that Holden is traditionally his favourite colour - Red. That Red, of course, goes faster. That Fords are a very, very yucky shade of blue. That Fords were, in fact just silly. I believe the word 'duffers' was thrown around. I can't say by whom.
I told him that smart people like Holdens. That we loved Daddy very much, but he didn't understand, so he liked Ford. And that while we can't be mean, as such, we should feel free to try to help him see the error of his ways.

I suggested that my talkative (ahem, read doesn't stop) ASD child, who once he has a 'rule' in his head can't break it, spend the entire day sitting with Daddy watching the race. The race that Daddy wasn't really intending to watch. But now has to, because who the hell can say no to Alexander? I dare you to try it.




Hehehehe...poor Joel. Alexander has not stopped saying "Go Holden!" all day. He hasn't stopped asking if holden was winning. The Freddo Frogs I keep feeding him may or may not be helping solidify his position.



(Edited. Alexander just walked in as I was posting this. He looked at the pictures. His response. "Ewwww.. Mummy. There is a yucky Ford in there!". I love my work!)
I'm a terrible, terrible mother. Go Holden!




Edited again. Joel was very interested to hear about just how powerful the tongue thing is. ;-) Sigh. Am going to have to let him give it a go again this afternoon.