I just turned fourteen and
was tired from shucking corn
and working my overalls off
till my worn rear end shone
in the moonlight, just to keep
the farm profitable. One
sunny morning I decided to
take the day off from working
in the corn field stripping off
ugly husks and play my first
game of golf at Fred’s place.
No one would miss me as
the corn was sky-scraping tall
enough to hide even a mon-
ster scarecrow. We use them
to scare the starving birds
away from the crops.
Stud our roaming male horse
was kept for pulling and car-
rying loads of stuff. I figured
to save myself a one-hour
gravel road walking trip and
get more time to golf; stud
would taxi me over in a few
minutes. An idle three-wheel
cart could be made into a
one-horse pulled golf cart
with just enough room to
carry me, a shovel, a tarp. a
tire air pump and Grandpa
Moses’ prehistoric golf club
bag.
Fifteen minutes out and the
dang single front tire started
to lose air. Stud was busy
eating the grass at the side
of the road while I pumped
him full of air (the tire not
the horse) and wrapped him
like an ancient black mum-
my with plenty of duct tape.
Fortunately, Grandpa Moses
kept more rolls of duct tape
in his golf bag than the 3
sticks for hitting the balls. Ex-
cuse me, folks, the worn-out
tag on the bag says they are
official Golf Klubs.
Don’t ask what kind of Klubs
they were because they all
worked for me one way or
the other. Whatever one
reached my hand first was
the lucky stick to hit that
dang ball sooner or later.
A note from the Author:
It has been so much fun
playing with words to
bring about amusing
and entertaining stories
portraying people and
other living things as out
of the ordinary.
So, I wrote, and wrote,
and wrote for over sixty-
five years. Each article
was stored away in a box
never to see the light of
day until now.
Stud pulled my three-wheel
golf cart willingly to the fifth
hole. Then for some stupid
reason, he trotted straight
into a shallow hole in the
ground filled with white sand
and a rake. Dang horse dug
around with his left horny
hoof and we salvaged five
golf balls. Stud dropped five
manure balls, I raked plenty
of white sand over them and
we high tailed it to the next
hole. I yelled fore but no one
answered so it looked like the
coast was clear.
When we got to the eigh-
teenth hole two hours later I
just remembered my score-
card never got used. I figured
100 was a nice round number
so the card got done prop-
er like. I hit the ball into the
last hole after eight whacks;
some times they didn’t count
because they were practice
ones. The course had lots of
wildflowers and sweetgrass
growing alongside the paths
which made Stud a happy
caddie horse. He ate a bunch
of posies and I loaded our
golf cart with a large quantity
of grazing food for our cows
and sheep and we called it a
day.
The next morning my pa
asked if I wanted to head out
to Fred’s Cabbage Square
Golf Course and learn how to
play golf. What a coincidence.
Was this a chance happen-
ing or was it intentional? You
know what, I learned a big
lesson. Always tell the truth,
I did and blamed it all on
my first golf cart pulled by a
horse.
The Golf Cart Chron-
icles By Suzy James
Series 1, 2 and 3 now
available for purchase
at www.itsnever2late-
books.com
MAY 2020
55