Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — Since the weather has turned nice, I’ve been fortunate to get out and play golf. There’s an old golf adage about playing well enough to “shoot your age.” My goal is to shoot my body temperature.
Coincidentally, my golf and bowling averages are pretty much the same.
I went out by myself the other day, in an attempt to shake off the rust. I’m trying to catch up with golfing buddies who are already in mid-season form. They spent over a month honing their skills and cheating on their scorecards in sunny Florida this past winter.
Before they headed south, they all bought the obligatory white belts and the must-have sandals to wear over their calf-length black socks. And, of course, they got the Hawaiian shirts and print shorts (which, as mandated by Florida law, you must wear together as an ensemble. ... I’m old enough to get away with saying that.)
As one of the guys explained about the snowbird strategy, “We were tired of watching our wives shovel the driveway throughout the winter.”
And there was a genuine concern, among my pals, about the foul language the women were adopting in regard to said chores. Seriously, you can’t find a more thoughtful group of guys. Sometimes.
My wife and I don’t go because, even though I love golf, I don’t think playing several rounds is worth the trade-off of having to go through a couple weeks of Hallmark-like movies and bike rides.
I’ve got nothing against bike rides, but a bike with a basket on the handlebars, full of trinkets (which look semi-good in an open-air market but nowhere else) that would go directly from Florida to our first yard sale of the year?