Golf day with the usual suspects. Temperatures in the 70s, blue skies, light breezes, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, a guy could try to hit a ball out of a hazard only to have it bounce off a large rock and hit him in the forearm at about a hundred miles an hour. That hurt and left a nasty bruise.
The main misadventure of the day went to none other than Some Guy Named Bob, or as we have taken to calling him, Mr. Magoo.
Let me explain.
After golf we went to our favorite joint for lunch.
It generally takes Some Guy Named Bob about three times as long to pack up his stuff and get to the restaurant as the rest of us. Since he rides a cart when golfing, after the round, he drives out to his car, dumps his stuff and then has to return the cart. He usually finds a thing or two to sidetrack him along the way. He is easily distracted.
After we had been waiting for about 45 minutes for him to arrive, I called him to get an update on his progress. When he answered it was apparent that he was involved in some type of calamity. There was a lot of background noise.
It turned out that while he was returning his golf cart to the starter's booth, he tried to cut between two parked cars and got it wedged tight. He had to go to the clubhouse and wait while two burly workers were summoned to get it unstuck. He thinks that the parked cars suffered only minor damage.
His explanation was, "I thought I could squeeze through."
In honor of Some Guy Named Bob, here is a clip of Mr. Magoo.
Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky