Cart Chronicles

It started as a routine Saturday round. The cart was parked on a slight incline near the 4th tee box. Nobody touched it. Nobody breathed on it. And yet — it moved.

Slowly at first, then with what can only be described as purpose. It rolled past the tee markers, past the water cooler, and directly into the bunker at the left edge of the fairway — a bunker that, by all accounts, required a deliberate hook shot to reach from the tee.

The cart came to rest perfectly centered in the sand. The group behind us applauded. The ranger did not.

We had decorated the cart for the Fourth of July. Flags, streamers, a small battery-powered speaker playing patriotic music. It was tasteful. It was festive.

It was, in retrospect, a terrible idea near the 7th hole water hazard. The speaker, still playing 'Stars and Stripes Forever,' floated for approximately 11 seconds before going under. The flags survived. The speaker did not.

We consider this a sacrifice in the name of patriotism. The cart emerged from the incident with a new nickname: Old Soggy.

We are legally not allowed to describe this incident in full detail. Our attorneys have been very clear on this point.

What we can tell you: it involved the 12th green, a 9-iron, one very confident squirrel, and a cart that somehow ended up facing the wrong direction on a completely flat surface with no apparent explanation.

Three witnesses were present. All three have given conflicting accounts. The squirrel has not been available for comment. The cart has never looked more proud.

We keep score for the cart as a joke. We have kept score for the cart since the very first incident, calculating a running tally based on holes disrupted, bunkers entered uninvited, and general chaos generated.

On September 21st, the cart's score officially beat its owner's score for the first time. The margin was three strokes. The cart did not gloat. It didn't have to.

We are now required to report that the cart holds a 1-0 record against its registered owner. The owner has requested a rematch. The cart has not responded.

The ranger had been following us since the 8th hole. We knew it. The cart knew it. The ranger knew we knew. It was a standoff conducted entirely at cart speed.

He pulled alongside us on the 11th fairway. We expected a lecture. Instead, he looked at the cart for a long moment and said, 'I've been doing this job for 22 years. I've never seen anything like that thing.'

We shook hands. He issued a formal warning. We consider it an honor. The warning is framed. It hangs in the garage next to the cart.

Most golfers put their carts away in winter. We are not most golfers. The course was open, the air was 28 degrees, and the frost on the 2nd fairway had created a surface that the cart found deeply interesting.

We parked on what appeared to be level ground. The cart disagreed. It began a slow, dignified slide that covered 40 yards before coming to rest against a yardage marker.

The yardage marker now reads 187 yards. It previously read 190. We accept responsibility for the discrepancy.