The Crash

It was another exciting night golfing. I drove one of the useless golf carts that Beaver Meadows leases so that I can carry some beers while golfing. It's always a major pain to carry beers while walking because they are always shaken. Not only are they flat, but there is nowhere to place them while one shoots, nor do they remain remotely cold. To be a true professional, one MUST take a golf cart. Four cup holders. Did I stutter? Four cup holders at a time!! Since I drove, my bro-in-law rode for 18 with me.

Unfortunately for Jimmy, he doesn't hold many skills in the art of golf cart driving. Let me set the stage. Here we are on 16. Jimmy drives the ball off the tee, to the right, in the pine trees. All the trees are trimmed low, there is plenty of pine straw, so that one can drive a golf cart under these 60 footers without issue. Simply put your foot on the gas, drive to the ball and take your foot off, coasting to a halt next to said ball. Ron and I are in the fairway watching his approach to his ball under the trees. Jimmy with his amazing cart driving skills decides to drive from the passenger side because he is cool like that. Needless to say, it didn't turn out so hot.

We watch with horror as Jimmy mistakenly slams his foot on the gas, instead of the brake, when by his account, a branch nearly poked him in the face. The cart shoots forward, from a near stop, at what seemed like 30 miles an hour...he swerves at the last second, narrowly avoiding a full speed head-on with a tree... he still collects a large root and the side of the tree, sending the cart careening at a 60 degree angle airborne. I'm talking a good four feet in the air at top speed with all our stuff exiting the cart into the air. It sounded like a car wreck. You know, tin can type CRUNCH! Jimmy lands upright, the cart stops dead and Jimmy immediately exits the cart. Panicking, he checks for missing or damaged parts, but all seems o.k.

Ron and I are 50 yards from the wreck but were laughing SO hard at this point that we almost fell over. I haven't laughed so hard in years. With tears streaming down my face, we get to the cart and all looks great. The damage is of course, two spilled beers and humiliation. I walk to the green while Jimmy recollected himself and realized that his life had just passed before his eyes.
He pulls the cart next to us, complaining that it isn't driving right. We finish the hole and take it from there.

Upon taking the reins of the cart back, I realized that the wheels are messed up something fierce. The alignment is shot and the wheels squeeled on the pavement because they were pointing outwards in two different directions. Another laughing fit occurred because Ron could see the struggle to handle the beast, even by an experience cart jockey like myself.

I limped the beast back to the parking lot and promptly informed the cart kid that the cart started acting funny on number 16. Jimmy went to the locker room to change his shoes as he was afraid that someone might recognize him as a crash victim. I didn't bother to explain why. I have decided that next time I play with Jimmy, he needs to ride shotgun with no touching the cart, or I'll have to suffer walking and choke down warm, flat beers!