Kevin Page: Men's foibles just not cricket

Are we there yet? A couple of potential trainees for car cricket.

Hands up, those who remember Car Cricket. Chances are those of you who do manage to raise a hand will find it dependent on how bad the early morning chill is affecting the arthritis in your shoulder.

Which basically means the old game is very much confined to those who are part of, or about to join, the Silver Tsunami of the ageing.

So for any youngies still with me at this point — and if you've turned off after just three sentences I'll be sending the boys from circulation around for a word! — here's a quick explanation.

Car Cricket was played by the bored and tired occupants of a stinking hot car on a long journey. They sat on vinyl seats which were easy to wipe melting ice cream off with your sleeve so Dad didn't notice.

Runs or points were scored depending on the variety of vehicle passing you in the other direction.

For instance a common white car might earn one point, a blue one two and a red one three. Trucks might get you four points and maybe a caravan or motorhome (did they exist back then?) would score a six.

Naturally you had to be 'out' at some stage or little brother/sister would scream about not getting a turn.

A passing truck, for instance, might signal the end of your innings and the long walk back to the pavilion.

These days there doesn't seem a need for Car Cricket. Passengers are kept occupied by a multitude of devices.

You can do your shopping while travelling in the back seat, watch telly, listen to your personal music, chat with friends in cars going the other way etc etc.

Come to think of it I doubt anybody actually asks "Are we there yet?" any more. They are too busy keeping occupied.

And even when they are "there" your passengers don't want to get out until they've finished their mobile chat/game/movie/shopping. How times change.

Anyway.

On an elongated trip through the big smoke recently, Mrs P and I decided to turn back the clock. Or we would have but it is digital and I can't work out how to change it.

We didn't fancy doing the shopping online, listening to music or talking to friends thing. So we invented a new and more interesting scoring system for Car Cricket.

One point is scored for a passing driver picking his nose (you'll notice I said "his"; I am reliably informed ladies don't). Two points for a driver on a cellphone and three points for going past a corner dairy.

Kevin Page

In our game you are out if a motorhome comes the other way so naturally there's a fairly high turnover of batsmen.

But in our game the biggest talking point is the six points available for a bloke walking past, er, "adjusting" things south of the border if you get my drift.

This was Mrs P's idea. Naturally I laughed at the very notion when she first mentioned it because, well, we men don't do that. Do we?

I have to be honest, I somewhat bristled at the suggestion this action occurred improperly.

We men liked to play with a straight bat, I said.

Sometimes it was necessary to tamp down any imperfections in the crease. Make sure there was no unexpected swing off the seam. So to speak.

Now it was Mrs P's turn to laugh.

She insisted such actions were occurring everywhere on a daily basis even if men didn't know they were actually doing it.

I didn't really know how to respond without sounding defensive so I drove into a service station and went inside to get a coffee.

I was still mulling over my response, deep in thought, when I came out.

As I approached the car I noticed Mrs P laughing and pointing directly at me.

It seems I'd scored a six.

But I'd also been caught on the boundary.

Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief that laughter helps avoid frown lines. Your own tales and feedback are welcome on kevin.page@nzme.co.nz