My cousin & I play golf each year while on vacation during each of the main summer holidays. We play a little course in north-central indiana that happens to have high tension power lines running through a few holes on the course. The local rules are if you hit one you get to re-hit, but we'd played there dozens of times and never even come close...you see where this is going, but wait.. So my cousin, he's not what you'd call a consistent driver of the golf ball, and the only way you could really hit these power lines would be if you hit a pretty good drive, and even then the ball would have to peak exactly where the lines are as they are pretty high...again that would be a great drive...not real common for either of us. About the time we'd forgotten the lines were there, he nuts a drive and hits the power line dead on..funny noise, then the ball drops out of the sky....we were cracking up. Now, that's not the "shocking" thing...that could happen to anybody I suppose...We've played twice since he did that, and both times we've stepped up to the tee, looked at each other, laughed, then he drilled the power line! It's gotten less funny for him, because it ruins a great drive...me, I laugh hard
almost put this in hole-ies and pole-ies this summer
Me and my buddy ALWAYS walk. Period. Even if we gotta pay to ride we walk. Well my buddy will fight a tree or at least talk yang to it. We're playing in High Point (home of the World Famous Tiki) at Blair Park. A less than stellar goat track in less than desirable 'hood. For instance a couple of geezers got pistol whipped on 18 and their assailant walked a way with about $5 and some Geritol.
__________________
Aloha Mr. Hand
Behold my hands; reach hither thy hand
Last edited by 12 piece bucket : 02-02-2006 at 11:12 PM.
...crushed driver on a tight par four at my buddy's club about 290. The bad news--my Titleist bad hops in to a swale/ditch that bisects the fairway. My buddy drives to his ball, I decide to tip-toe down in to the muck and grab my ball--on the third step, I go down and in, up to my chest in this murky, boggy quicksand stuff. Buddy races over, pulls me out with his six iron.
That was the fifth hole. We finished the round, me covered up to my chest in mud. We skipped drinks in the clubhouse afterwards. Oh, took a drop hit a nice 8i in and lipped out the nine footer.