A lot, as it turns out.
I entered the Otago University Students' Association's van giveaway competition confident.
Mentally I was strong.
An entire block of cheese was once devoured by my younger self in a stellar display of endurance and commitment, and surely my double-jointed elbows would finally be put to good use by allowing me to grip that van from all angles.
The sun was cracking down on the 32 of us. As beads of sweat formed on the brow of the student beside me, that mental strength began to fade.
A call by OUSA student president Hugh Baird for all competitors to put their hand on the van higher than their head was a cruel blow.
Twelve minutes in and the novelty was gone.
The armpit of Mr Determined beside me was now perfectly positioned to allow odours to waft directly into my face.
Then the conversation started.
The girls with their hands on the bumper lived together and so too did the guys leaning by the door.
I was outnumbered.
I wasn't even a student.
Hell, my wee car suddenly looked pretty good.
As the blood drained from my arm, turning my fingers a shade of ghostly yellow I realised my determination was long gone.
Twenty-eight minutes in I peeled my hand and hopes away from the van.
Others lasted much longer.
Late in the day I sheepishly returned to the scene to see how many were left.
Twenty-two students, all looking tired, and some a tad sunburnt, remained.
They had survived five hours of clinging to the van, a running race to Unipol and hundreds of squats, ordered by Mr Baird.
Shortly before 10.30pm, the final two hardy contestants undertook a five-question quiz. Student Will Boswell was the winner, Mr Baird said.
