Eracer
No more triple bogies!!
- Oct 31, 2005
- 12,405
- 8
I was with my Dad for Father's Day, and we played golf on both Saturday and Sunday mornings.
Sunday morning found us at a private club in Englewood that neither of had been to before. The pro at my Dad's club had arranged a reciprocal for us, and we showed up about an hour ahead of our scheduled tee time.
After getting directions to the clubhouse from the gate guard, my Dad drove up looking for the bag drop. There was none, and it appeared that the protocol here was to be a cart pickup in the parking lot.
My Dad, fueled by the creeping fog of age, and a brutal Italian stubborness, decided that he was going to find the bag drop DAMMIT!
So he drives through a portico that, to my eyes anyway, looked just wide enough for a cart. Sure enough, he just gets through, drives right past the first tee, around a curve (which was clearly - to me at least - a cart path), past the stunned gazes of about a hundred club members eating breakfast behind the floor-to-ceiling picture windows of the clubhouse. "Mildred, I didn't know they'd added Lexus carts to the stable..."
At this point his wife and I are practically begging him to stop. He's having none of it, thinking that the cart path that headed out to the driving range would somehow miraculously carry him to safety.
At this point there is a guy on the practice green (now only 100 feet away and getting closer by the minute) doing his best Judge Smails imitation. Actually it was more like the guy having the stroke in "Falling Down", but you get the picture. Somehow we got my Dad to stop just before he actually got next to the 10th tee. He somehow executed a beautiful 3-point turn, and headed back past the diners, most of whom were still holding their fork full of omelet, frozen with the fear that this maniac would just drive through the clubhouse itself on the way back out to the parking lot.
Thank heaven no one actually saw us get out of the vehicle, and we managed to make it to the pro shop without further incident.
Unfortunately, we discovered after the round that his wife had locked the keys inside the car. We are now an hour and a half away from his house, stranded. Fortunately, AAA saved the day by getting a locksmith there in just under two hours. Unfortunately, the alarm on the vehicle went off as he was jimmying the lock, and must surely have pissed off anyone standing on the tee, since it rang for a good five minutes, and was LOUD.
All in all, it was a pretty fun day.:laugh:
Sunday morning found us at a private club in Englewood that neither of had been to before. The pro at my Dad's club had arranged a reciprocal for us, and we showed up about an hour ahead of our scheduled tee time.
After getting directions to the clubhouse from the gate guard, my Dad drove up looking for the bag drop. There was none, and it appeared that the protocol here was to be a cart pickup in the parking lot.
My Dad, fueled by the creeping fog of age, and a brutal Italian stubborness, decided that he was going to find the bag drop DAMMIT!
So he drives through a portico that, to my eyes anyway, looked just wide enough for a cart. Sure enough, he just gets through, drives right past the first tee, around a curve (which was clearly - to me at least - a cart path), past the stunned gazes of about a hundred club members eating breakfast behind the floor-to-ceiling picture windows of the clubhouse. "Mildred, I didn't know they'd added Lexus carts to the stable..."
At this point his wife and I are practically begging him to stop. He's having none of it, thinking that the cart path that headed out to the driving range would somehow miraculously carry him to safety.
At this point there is a guy on the practice green (now only 100 feet away and getting closer by the minute) doing his best Judge Smails imitation. Actually it was more like the guy having the stroke in "Falling Down", but you get the picture. Somehow we got my Dad to stop just before he actually got next to the 10th tee. He somehow executed a beautiful 3-point turn, and headed back past the diners, most of whom were still holding their fork full of omelet, frozen with the fear that this maniac would just drive through the clubhouse itself on the way back out to the parking lot.
Thank heaven no one actually saw us get out of the vehicle, and we managed to make it to the pro shop without further incident.
Unfortunately, we discovered after the round that his wife had locked the keys inside the car. We are now an hour and a half away from his house, stranded. Fortunately, AAA saved the day by getting a locksmith there in just under two hours. Unfortunately, the alarm on the vehicle went off as he was jimmying the lock, and must surely have pissed off anyone standing on the tee, since it rang for a good five minutes, and was LOUD.
All in all, it was a pretty fun day.:laugh:
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