I am attached to my golf equipment. I consider my commitment an act of loyalty while others kindly call it frugal!
Nothing short of an Act of God will give me reason to make a change from my beloved eleven year old Ping G-5’s and my five-year old Callaway (blue head with a white Fubuki shaft) Big Bertha driver (purchased used). Conversely, my Saturday morning golfing buddy has purchased dozens of new iron sets and countless new drivers during the same eleven year period.
Recently, I needed to return my (new) golf bag to Sun Mountain for a minor repair. Leaving for vacation days after the shipment, I was in need of a temporary carry bag for the journey. I asked my Saturday morning playing buddy if he could spare a bag for a few weeks knowing full well that he had a supply of bags that would rival any pro shop. He, of course, responded favorably! In addition to my temporary bag, Dave encouraged me to bring along his new Titleist 917 D2 driver for some fun. I reluctantly agreed, having concern about a possible turf war between my Callaway driver and the new Titleist driver.
Arriving at our destination, I quickly took off to the golf course with my beautiful, borrowed green Callaway carry bag and my borrowed (new) Titleist driver in tow.
As I approached the deserted 10th tee box (432 yard, straight away par four), I thought it best to tape the top of the new Titleist driver head with white athletic tape (the only tape available at the time) to protect the finish. Nothing worse than returning a new club to your friend with a few “sky marks” (a.k.a. dumb-dumbs) on the hood.
Anyway, after a few holes, things were going well for the top of the new Titleist driver though not so well for my scorecard. Having completed the 227 yard par three, 13th hole, I elected to drop my bag into the early stages of the 531 yard par five, 14th hole, grabbing the new driver for the lengthy walk backward to the tee box. Arriving at the tee box, I removed the head cover to find the previously attached athletic tape rolled into a tight little ball inside the head cover. My shoulders slump, a long sigh. Now, do I take the trek to retrieve the roll of athletic tape or dare to trust my precise ball striking capabilities?
I opted to trust my precise ball striking capabilities and proceeded to hit my tee ball higher than farther, barely halfway to my lonesome green Callaway golf bag. Dropping my hands to my knees, I peer to the heavens, offering a quick prayer before assessing the damage. Sure enough, tiny white dimple-like sky marks adorned the top of Dave’s new driver! I immediately took a preemptive strike to resolve the problem, the ultimate panacea, a little spit and shine (sorry Dave, however this approach may be a sure-fire way to secure a gifted driver). It didn’t help!
Despondent, I completed the 14th hole and went to the 15th, re-taping the top of the driver with layers of white athletic tape. After completing my late afternoon nine-hole adventure, I scrambled to my car, pitched my clubs and Dave’s pock-marked driver into the trunk and sped off for home, foregoing my customary post round beverage(s). I hit the garage door opener, raced to the cabinet to assemble all of my car cleaning products, hoping to avoid the grinder and the paint booth.
I concocted my brew; a delicate balance of Turtle Wax, Invisible Glass, Tuff-Stuff Foam Cleaner and ArmorAll. To my surprise, the dumb-dumb that was responsible for the dumb-dumb on the hood of the new driver, actually removed the dumb-dumb. Whew, got away with one! Fabulous, Dave is no more the wiser, unless he decides to read this week’s post.
Day two, heading out to the course, I decided to be a bit more proactive with my protective measures!
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The back nine can only get better!
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