There are four of us in the car driving to the course; Coach is piloting and displaying how he could let the car crash but doesn’t, and shows how (in real time and action) he stopped the car from a rear-end crash just in the nick of time. The Honda in front of us has wet himself, and Coach explains that it’s good for a car/man to “know his limitations” (too much Dirty Harry if you ask me). Sam is talking about the book he’s reading (I don’t even read instructions—why would I read something with more than one page?!). Fred is talking about the weather and how cool the temperature will be compared to previous days. I’m experiencing involuntary sphincter spasms as Coach is going through the litany of safety options he’s discovered on his Rav 4. Sam and Fred look up only when g-forces are pressuring their seat belts. Coach says, “Now, I’ve discovered if I let the wheel go completely …”
Arriving at the course we all exit, kiss the ground, and notice that Fred was correct about his assessment of the temperature and we’re all going semi-Sherpa once again. The foursome in the car is the foursome on the course. On the first tee, Fred decides to add a caveat to his forecast: “Winds are predicted up to 30 mph today!” We begin examining the wind on the treetops and shrug, as it seems that, while there is wind, the course is “playable.”
Four holes later
Learning to lean and place your ball on a tee that is in fact at a 15-degree angle towards the wind to allow the ball to remain on the tee is interesting, but gets old quickly. It’s like watching someone play with Lincoln Logs—poorly. I watch Fred tee his ball up carefully and then watch his hat fly off his head as though it had been shot off by a sniper. I wait a moment after he hits his ball and say, “Nice drive—too bad it didn’t go as far as your hat; I’m sure someone in Clovis will turn it in!”
Some portions of this dialogue contain exaggeration.
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