Three girlfriends and I wrote our names and dress sizes on a small square of paper we folded up and had one of us dish back out randomly to each of us.
When we unfolded our pieces of paper, we entered an op shop to buy a top and accessories for the person whose named was written inside, in their noted size.
Our limit was $10.
The task was delivered to us via the first card in a shuffled deck of a road trip card game called Getting Lost: Girls’ Road Trip edition.
We stepped into that op shop dressed modestly and casually.
Shortly after we emerged, we were dressed in gaudy outfits with garish accessories and headwear that included a hat embroidered with ‘cocaine castles’ and a huge round, padded panda head.
The latter had been chosen for yours truly, who also happened to be the assigned driver for our adventure.
If you saw a ‘panda’ behind the wheel on Saturday during your travels, it was just a disguise. I hope you weren’t alarmed.
We found no bamboo forests to roll around in, but did wind up on unsealed roads and in a forest-like patch of bindi-eyes that we had to painstakingly pluck from our soles before packing ourselves back in the vehicle.
Soon after we had been instructed to drive north as many kilometres as the youngest ‘girl’ in the car was in years, we drew a card that prompted us to swap an item of clothing with someone else in the car.
I didn’t have to think twice about choosing the panda head to move on to a new owner, without even considering a reverse move card might be an imminent draw from the deck.
Later, someone did end up with the power to reverse the action and the panda made its way home to my head.
We randomly followed red cars, slid down slides at playgrounds, turned down roads that started with the same letter of the song that was currently playing.
(Learning to Fly, by Pink Floyd, in case you were wondering.)
At one point we were tasked with finding a shop the same colour as the driver’s top for a photo, which was no mean feat in the small towns the cards had us roving to.
After lunch at the Wunghnu general store, where the attention our outfits attracted started several conversations with other amused patrons, we ducked into the pub down the street for some ‘hydration’ and a quick game of truth or dare that cards told us to have.
We learned things about each other we could have probably lived without knowing, but gosh did it inspire roaring laughter.
There is no doubt memories were made this day on our road to nowhere.
With two of my kids at work for the day and the other off with his grandparents on their own road trip, it was nice to have some adult time with friends after I’d slain all the chores on my weekend to-do list before midnight in some overly fervent quest on Friday after work, which saw me even mowing my lawns by the glow of the streetlight after dark.
I guess that makes me that neighbour who behaves oddly at times, but you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to get where you’ve gotta go.
Of course, on Saturday, I had no idea where I “had to go” before each of the next cards were revealed.
The Getting Lost series of card games is produced by a New Zealand company.
I bought it for myself a couple of years ago when I was buying different editions for Christmas gifts.
I’m almost ashamed to admit it took me that long to play it, but any adult, particularly one with still dependent kids, knows how busy life, and how far away from you time, gets.
Co-ordinating groups of adults to be available on the same day is akin to manufacturing miracles.
While I love spontaneity and have been known to drop arrangements for a quiet night in at the last minute when unmissable (or even mundane) offers pop up no matter how tired I am, family life has made me grateful for well-laid plans and routine over the years.
But I think losing yourself in impulsiveness occasionally is good for the soul and calling that youthful carefree feeling of freedom back from your younger years.
And getting lost is usually the most memorable part of any adventure.
I highly recommend you get lost every once in a while, too.
With love, of course.