I was invited to play golf. On the way there (in a nice new Cadillac), I told them my golf story. It's amazing how the quest for a good story can not only overtake the truth, it can unceremoniously run it off the road.
I told them I'd only ever played golf once before. I played with two friends, one of whom was left-handed, and the other right-handed. I couldn't make up my mind which I was, so I played half the holes with the left-handed clubs, and half with the right-handed ones. And, of course, I WON!
The observation that golf is a good walk ruined is usually ascribed to Mark Twain. Being American, he wouldn't be able to observe that now, since nobody walks anywhere. Now it would be a good drive ruined.
The car park adjoins a large set of lock-up garages. It's out of the car and onto the cart, with hardly a step in between. Actually, the carts are quite good fun (I got to drive one). Sometimes the balls vanish over a hill from the tee. So there is a lot of whizzing about the fairway checking whose ball is whose. You just have to watch out for the drain covers and sprinklers.
I told them I was in no condition to do any (golf) driving, so they were kind enough to play a set of rules which allowed me to do a bit of putting: just enough stress and embarrassment to be going on with. Apart from the risk of injury, driving would have been agonisingly embarrassing, since they all smacked the ball off the tee like Tiger Woods.
It was only a nine-hole course, but we went round three times. I guess that was only possible with the carts. A walk like that would probably have put us all in hospital. The carts are also, of course, much quicker than walking; and they allow you to carry much more beer.
We had hotdogs for lunch, and a brown-paper bag of beer on the way home: a real boys' day out.
Later that night, we were invited to dinner at a house which must have one of the finest views I've ever seen. I got sunset over the longest bend on the Missouri, and a beautiful night sky, with the only light pollution coming from a wailing freight train crossing the bridge at the downstream end of the bend.
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1 comment:
You know you are always welcome back whenever you like. I'll have to send you pictures of the view during the winter. The view seems to never end. Hope all is well.
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