|
 Jeez.
I seem to be having a serious Driving The Golf Cart problem lately.
Last week at a golf tournament, I accidentally
ran into poor ol' Billy A. as he was waiting to take a swing at his
ball. I tried to stop--honestly I did--but the cart slid and hit him
pretty hard right in the back of his ankle. Ouch. He, uh, didn't take it
so well. He yelled "Fuck!" and then broke his 3-wood in half by slamming
it across the cart--and the broken club's head almost nailed Barney (it actually grazed
his nose). Oops. Sorry Billy. Really. I'm
sorry.
(This came a couple of holes after I stopped
short and almost ejected all 280 pounds of poor ol' Barney through the
front windshield, which went flying--see the picture to the right)
And two weeks ago at another golf tournament, I
took a turn way too fast and then dumbass me mistook the gas pedal for
the break pedal and we hit a big oak tree dead on at almost full speed.
Beers, cell phones, golf balls, and poor ol' John F. went flying every which way.
Oops. Sorry John. Really. I'm sorry. Fortunately, Johnny wasn't hurt and
we all fell out laughing, but I could have killed him--or me. Or totaled
the cart.
So I'm starting to think that I shouldn't be
allowed to drive the golf cart ever again. Maybe a lifetime suspension
is in order.
Or, alternately, maybe I shouldn't drink 10
beers before the 14th hole. |
2000-2006