The Golfchick

That chick blabbing about anything golf related.

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Happy Place Revealed

A few weeks ago, I posted a teaser about my new “happy place.” Since then, I’ve had cause to visit it in my head many times.

Update: 10/04/06 – I have posted a short video of the back nine here. (If you’re following along in the “golfchick chronicles” links, be aware this skips ahead.)


I have been reluctant to post about it here because I’d love to get a story about it sold to an actual printed golf publication, and I know how they are about exclusivity rights. But I realize I’ve been leaving you hanging for too long now and besides, I’m not going to write here what I’d sell to them anyway.

¿Cómo se dice “distracting”?

A few weeks ago, I was very fortunate to have been invited to be among the first to play the brand new Jack Nicklaus signature golf course, Punta Espada. It is on the very eastern tip of the Dominican Republic in a development called Cap Cana. It is the first of three planned Jack Nicklaus courses that will be built there.When I went, only the back nine were open but I got a “backstage tour” from the pro there, Mark Clouse. He played the back nine with me a couple times and took me on a tour of the front nine and the clubhouse inner workings during its construction. It was an experience I will never forget.

I got soaked on this hole while standing over by the side of the green waiting for my playing partner, Mike (the time I played without Mark) to hit up from just off the green. Another foot and he’d have been in the water. A wave came up and soaked me, Mike and our caddie, Armando. It felt great!

Hands down, this is the nicest course I’ve ever played and possibly ever will play. Many of the holes on the back nine are played right on or over the Caribbean Sea and the rest of them have amazing views of it. Not just a sliver viewed from atop the very back tees.

Happy opening!

Yesterday, the front nine opened. I’m dying to go back and play the rest of the course. The front nine has some holes I’d love to get my clubs on with equally as stunning views and strategies required as the back nine. The grand opening with Jack Nicklaus is scheduled for November 7.

Word of caution: if you want to play this golf course (and anyone reading this site should), do it soon. When they open the next golf course (end of 2007), Punta Espada will be entirely private. And no, you can’t just go buy a membership there. You must purchase some of the amazing property there to even be eligible for a membership and they only have about 100 memberships left to sell. They are going to keep the membership number LOW.

For more information, see their website at www.capcana.com.

If you’re from a golf publication and would like a story on this golf course (and I have many, many more photographs), contact me at thegolfchick@gmail.com.

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I have bad news and I have good news (and bad news and good news and bad… )

Which do you want first?

Okay, the bad news:

I went to the range Friday night before the tournament to see if I could swing a golf club. I could, but I was being so cautious with my back that I was swinging with all arms which caused disastrous results with the golf ball. I took about 20 swings and had to call it quits. I almost cried on the way home, but there’s no crying in golf. My pain increased throughout the night, possibly due to the exertion and I had a difficult time sleeping. I woke up on Saturday thinking there was no way I could possibly play golf.

The good news:

I went to the chiropractor as scheduled Saturday morning before the tournament. Even though I had to report a flare-up and backwards progress, I received my treatment which felt good. He followed that up with an amazingly positive attitude and when I told him I didn’t think I could play, he actually prescribed golf for therapy. He said “if you go home and lie around feeling lousy, that becomes your new condition.” He told me I need to get out there and continue to do what I do and that golf is good exercise for my back right now. He didn’t know the stakes of the round, but suggested that I just go out and try and get through as many holes as I could.

The bad news:

I revealed my condition to the board and asked if I could get consideration to reschedule my match. My competitor is on the board, so the cat was out of the bag.

The good news:

They granted me the continuance. I went out to play as much of the round anyway as my doctor “prescribed.” I didn’t waste any swings warming up since I wasn’t competing. I teed off first and hooked my first shot left into the trees but was in bounds and kind of playable. It hurt but I survived it. I was deep in thought as the rest of the foursome teed off. My would-be opponent hit a great tee shot well beyond mine and in the fairway. It occurred to me that it was lame and weak to be out there playing the round but pussying out of the match. After all, a lot of these guys are older men who play hurt nearly every time. After watching his great tee shot, I said “let’s play it.” He said “Are you sure? You don’t have to, but if we start, we finish.” I said “if I don’t finish, you win.” Game on.

The bad news:

I lost.

The good news:

I finished. I powered through it, and played pretty well considering. Actually, it would have been a pretty good round for a healthy me, and I was proud of that because of the pain I endured. But pretty good was not good enough. My opponent played a great round and earned the win. Under normal circumstances, it’s hard to say if the result would have been the same. I tend to think not, since I am a fierce competitor, but we’ll never know. What felt worse than swinging the club was teeing up and retrieving the ball from the cup, and the WORST was riding in the golf cart. I stood and walked as much as possible. Hitting out of the sand was the hardest of the swings and was usually followed with ginger swings which produced terrible results. I gave away a lot of strokes by taking swings trying to baby my back.

The rundown

I really battled on the front nine. I got three strokes on that side and used them well. After losing the 1st hole, we halved the 2nd (where I got a stroke) when I bogey’d and he par’d. One down. 3rd hole, we both bogey’d. Still one down. 4th hole, we both bogey’d but I got a stroke. All square. 5th hole, he bogeys, I double. Back to one down. 6th hole, I par, he doubles. All square. 7th hole, we both bogey but I get a stroke. One up. 8th hole, I bogey, he pars. All square. 9th hole, we both bogey. All square after nine.

At the turn, I used the privacy of the restroom to let out some of the winces and pained facial expressions I’d been suppressing. The soreness and fatigue were really wearing on me and I was amazed I was even giving this guy a run for his money. That was my downfall. Under normal competitive circumstances, such weakness in attitude doesn’t exist.

I got two strokes on the back nine and knew I had to start making some solid pars but instead of feeling the exhilaration of the challenge, I felt like it was an uphill battle at this point. 10th hole, he bogeys and I triple! One down. 11th hole, he pars and I double. I got a stroke on this hole and gave it away in the middle of the fairway. I still could have halved it on the green but missed a make-able 2nd putt. Doubt and lack of confidence had crept in. Two down. 12th hole, we both bogey, still two down. 13th hole, we both bogey, still two down. 14th hole, he pars, I bogey. Three down, four to go. 15th hole, I got a stroke but the exact same thing happened as on the 11th. I gave one away on the fairway and one on the green. He pars and I double. Match over. I finished the round with double, par, par. I was disappointed in the loss (my first match loss) and the mental weakness that caused it. But I was proud of my physical effort and courage to do battle.

The bad news:

I’m feeling the repercussions of all the strain I put on my back yesterday.

The good news:

Underneath the tenderness, I feel like it’s getting better and when the soreness from overuse subsides I’ll be well on my way back to normal. I’m continuing my stretches and have more follow up visits to the chiropractor scheduled.

More good news:

Greg won his match and advanced to the A-flight championship next month. (Incidentally, he played a worse round than I did, relatively speaking – he shot a net 76 and I shot a net 71.)

The bad news:

It won’t be me he faces. (Don’t think for a second I won’t be secretly keeping track at the next tournament to see who would win if we were playing each other.)

The mixed feelings news:

After the round, the board invited me to join them as Secretary. It took them about a half hour of persuading me before I caved in and accepted. I know they just want some sucker to fulfill those duties (mainly writing to keep members informed and promoting to recruit new members). I also know I’m pretty busy right now and don’t need more unpaid responsibility. However, as the only female member of the club, I was impressed they were willing to have a female on the board with voting power.

I think they were impressed with the way I handled the match situation. In fact, at the 19th hole, I noticed a marked difference in attitudes toward me from the members as well. It could just be that they were happy I got beat, but it also felt like an increase in respect. Too bad my decision to play came on the first tee, though. I bet that thwarted a lot of wagering that would have taken place had they known the match was on.

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Against my better judgment, but I gotta try something

I have always been leery of chiropractors. It’s not that I don’t believe in alternative or therapeutic care. I just get this paranoid feeling like while they’re working on you they’re going to do something to make sure that you have to keep coming back. I’m sure they’re not all like that, but how does one go about finding a good one?

Mom pleaded with me to go see one and told me her doctor fixed her right up when she had a similar back injury; that she felt immediately better. With my upcoming tournament and a desperate feeling (and to appease my loving mother), I found one just blocks from my home and I went. He performed electrical muscle stimulation, ultrasound and gave me what they call an “adjustment.” After the endorphin rush of that last treatment, I did feel markedly better, but it didn’t last. I was back to the pain and not being able to get comfortable in any position soon enough. However, unlike the night before, I was able to sleep through it.

This morning I’m feeling well enough to at least sit here and type, so that’s progress. I’m sitting up straighter than ever before, so maybe something good will come of this whole mess. I’m going back for another treatment this afternoon and again tomorrow morning before I attempt to play golf. He urged me not to play but said he would do all he could to make me feel well enough to try if I insisted.

Meanwhile, I’m amazed at all the little things I took for granted before the pain. Wiping my ass, for example. Or physically helping my 11 year old Great Dane up the stairs. We must look like a couple of old grannies out on our walks. Standing and walking are the least uncomfortable things I can do, but I know I must look like there’s something lodged up my aforementioned ass as I cautiously take my steps.

If I can swing a club and end up playing tomorrow, I think I’ll invite someone in my foursome (not my competitor) in on my secret. Maybe have him slyly retrieve my golf ball from the cup after I sink it. Surprisingly, squatting doesn’t hurt that much, but I’ve tried the move with the reach for the ball and it will look awkward at best. I don’t want my competition to know that I’m struggling. With a secret helper, I might be able to pull it off. That is, if I can even swing.

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I screwed up my back

Crap – what now?

It’s immensely painful to just sit in this chair and type. I will make this very short.

Our club championship is determined based on a match play bracket. I have won two matches and the two players who win the next matches play each other for the flight championships. Then the flight champions play against each other for the club championship. I am the reigning club champ. The next match is this Saturday. If I can’t play, I forfeit. That sucks.

What makes it even more interesting is that if I win my next match and Greg also wins his, we go up against each other for the flight championship. I really need to be able to play this one to try to get there.

If anyone has any ideas for a winning self medication prescription, I’m listening.

Please, help…

Kristen

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Ask the Goose – question from “Chuck”

Chuck from Woodland Hills, CA submitted this question:

Dear Goose,
My name is Chuck and I am a very handsome black and white cat. (Note I didn’t say kitty, that’s for pussies!) Anyway, I have a major problem with my parents! I know they love me but they keep leaving me!!! And it makes me so mad just cause they want to go have some fun. Hey — aren’t I fun enough??

Well, the problem is that when they get back, the way I show them I’m unhappy with them I think just might cost me my life!! You see, I peed on my Dad’s shorts and peed on my Mom! Yep — you read that correctly — I peed ON her!

My Dad just took me to the vet to get checked out and do you know what the vet had the unmitigated gall to say? That I had a small kitty brain and what did they expect from me?!!!! Can you even believe it? I AM appalled.

Well Goose — do you have any suggestions for how I can show my displeasure with my parents when they take off for places unknown and just abandon me at home ALONE? I think my Mom can probably handle it but it’s my Dad I’m worried about. Should I go back to throwing up on the carpet or bringing them a dead rat? What’s a cat to do?! Anxiously awaiting you’re response with bait on my breath!

Fondly, Chuck
PS (Love the golf blog!)

Dear Bait,

What the hell is wrong with cats? As you mentioned at the end, this is a golf blog! My mom didn’t want me to post a response to this!

You call yourself a cat but you are truly a pussy. I never understood the stupid kitty brain anyway. When my mom goes out to play golf or leaves me for any other reason, I get upset but I get over it right away! Live for the NOW, you moron. You may have nine lives, but your time here is still too short to be spending it all stressed out. Frickin whiner!

Sure, sometimes I get bored and go through the trash or other fun things while she’s gone. Today I’m trying something new – posting a response on her blog to a dumb cat. She might remove it when she finds out. Anyway, when she gets home she’s all “disappointed” in me and I act remorseful for a little while and then the loving returns.

Throwing up on the carpet – now that I can relate to! Sure, do that! Or if you like rats, show them how you missed them by presenting one to them when they return. Maybe put it on the dining room table or on a pillow in bed. Just have your fun, take lots of naps and keep busy while they’re gone. Whatever you do, don’t try to punish them once they’re HOME, you idiot. Don’t you know that just extends your own misery? Why do you want them home so much if you’re not going to enjoy it?

Frickin stupid kitties. You’re lucky they haven’t woofenized you yet. Speaking of that, tell your mom and dad I’d be happy to provide a private one-on-one training session for you.

The Goose Kitty Project: I’m so scared!

Your doctor is right about your small kitty brain. That’s why cats get nine lives, by the way, because they’re so dumb. I’m surprised you haven’t used all yours up by now by sticking your paw in a socket or shredding yourself in the garbage disposal and other stupid cat stuff. Maybe you’ll get what you deserve and they’ll go all new age on you and put you on some kind of pussy anti-depressant.

Good luck,

The Goose

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Reader question – golfer slang

Mike from Philadelphia submitted this question (to me, not the Goose):

Someone was telling me that there are different types of golfers such as Golf freaks, trunk slammers, and club members. I was trying to get a good definition for each but I couldn’t find much on the internet because it appears some of these terms are slang. I was wondering if you’ve ever heard these terms used a lot and if you have an idea how you would define these terms.

Mike figured out that these terms are slang right away. Good job, Mike. Aside from “golf freak,” I have never actually heard these terms used, but I won’t let that stop me from answering the question and defining the terms here and now.

Golf Freak(glf frk), n.

1: A golfer that is markedly unusual or deformed; (see circus freak)
2: A person who is so utterly devoted or addicted to the game of golf that he or she plays as often as possible, can’t get enough gear or knowledge of all things golf, constantly talks about golf and proselytizes; (see Jesus freak, golf blogger)
3: A combination of 1 and 2 (see photo insert)

Mediaeagle, the golf freak
photo courtesy www.eatgolf.com

Trunk slammer (trngk slmr), n.

1: A person who slams the trunk of a car
2: An occasional golfer not overly concerned with rules, etiquette, or his or her equipment (they park their cars, grab their gear, slam their trunks and off they go)

Club member (klb mmbr), n.

1: A member of a club
2: A golfer belonging to a private country club
3: slang A golfer of limited ability belonging to a private country club who looks down on non-members and trunk slammers (see pompous, snob, Judge Smails) and expects to get the “members bounce” even when playing an alternate course

Thanks for the question, Mike. I hope this helps.

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I have a new “happy place”

I recently had the amazingly good fortune to visit a brand new golf course. It’s my new favorite place and where I can go in my mind when I need to “go to my happy place.” There is definitely more to come, but I will let it be a mystery for now unless someone knows or can guess where this is.

From the red tees, I made par here. Then from the blues (perspective shown here), I par’d once and bogey’d once. Click on the photo for a larger view.

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British Open Ups and Downs

Up until almost two years ago when I started playing golf myself, watching golf on TV for me was like watching paint dry. Now that I am a golfer and I understand the challenge I’m watching, I still find myself falling asleep with the Tivo remote in my hand. Now it’s more like watching someone paint: sometimes it’s a masterpiece and sometimes it’s a white wall. The Open Championship had a bit of both for me.

Getting up

Watching Tiger Woods play a nearly flawless round (or four) is pretty amazing. He made some exciting shots even though his game was really safe. The final round had plenty of drama and intensity, especially if you were rooting for Chris DiMarco like I was. Having Ernie Els in the mix was fun and made things interesting, too. And watching Tiger’s emotional floodgates breaking down on the last hole was delicious. You could almost see his composure seeping out as he walked to the green and finished the hole. Then, when it finally broke, it was a dramatic demonstration of how impressive his focus really is. He wore that competitive golf robot persona for the entire tournament and wow, was it heavy. His emotional display brought tears to several people’s eyes and almost had me as well. Good for him. Nice win.

A little privacy, please? I guess the price you pay for being the best golfer in the world and earning all the money that goes with it is having your intimate moments in public. But could that camera guy get any closer? Photo from Golfweb.com.

Getting down

Having said that, 18 under at a major? Seven players were double digits below par. What a dull course! I know it’s probably like golf blasphemy to criticize such a historic golf course, but come on! Boring. And ugly. Have these guys ever heard of watering a course? The announcers kept talking about the lack of rain there. There’s this thing called irrigation. Blech.

Looking at the course from the air is actually quite nice. From the ground it’s another story.
Photo from Golf Digest.

Tiger was smart to just play it safe and keep the ball in the fairway. Sure, he’s more of a machine than other players and can make more of those longer approach shots, but it was a pretty easy course for most of those guys anyway. And if more of them played that safe strategy, the Royal would have been an even duller dullsville.

Moving on

I often sit around and ponder… how can I be more like Michael Bamberger? But who doesn’t, am I right? I said earlier it was a “nice win” for Tiger. Or was it?

In the Conditions section on the entry form for the Open, it states that caddies must wear the Open Championship bib during all practice rounds and the championship. It also states that players are responsible for the conduct of their caddies as well as their adherence to the conditions. Steve Williams removed his bib on the 18th hole before play was concluded. On the 18th hole! Of course Tiger and Steve had gaggles of cameras on them for the whole tournament, but the most visible spot and seen by more people than anything is the 18th green and the winner. People who don’t watch or care to watch golf will see it in the newspapers and on TV without trying. And Steve wasn’t in the correct attire.

Without Steve’s bib, how are we to know which winning Sunday this is for Tiger?
Photo from Golfweb.com.

So, should that have been a two stroke penalty? Or a DQ? The Conditions also state that the championship committee can amend and interpret the conditions, so I guess it’s up to them. Taking the win away from Tiger for such a technicality would be scandalous, for sure. But when it comes to golf, rules are usually rules.

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Introducing a new feature: Ask “The Goose”

If you’ve read my blog for awhile, you know about The Goose. She’s the 11 year old Great Dane I abandon for a few hours every time I play golf. Her name is actually Kess, but she’s more often called by her nickname, The Goose.

She’s never been one for chasing balls and so doesn’t quite see the appeal of doing it for 18 holes, but she understands my addiction nonetheless. Since she has retired from her security job, she has been restless and wants to contribute to this blog to give her something to do. I’m all for it if it will keep her out of the trash.

She’s so bored!

I thought the best way for her to contribute was to use her uncanny wisdom in a feature I’m calling “Ask the Goose.” Readers can send in their questions to her via e-mail using the link on the sidebar and if she answers them, I’ll post them here.

Before I introduced this feature, I wanted to test it myself to see if her response would be a good fit for this site. I think it is, and I’ll share the example here now:

Dear Goose,

What is the best way to practice my short game?

Love, Mom

Dear “Mom,”

I love the short game because it involves chips, and I love chips. It’s good that you understand this is the most important part of your game, and to make sure you practice it, you should make it fun. Playing is good.

Take some friends if you can and make a game out of your practice. Even wager on it if you want. With your bump and runs and your flop shots, choose a target and mark it. I recommend using something other than pee because it doesn’t always show up and it can be messy. Then play “GOOSE” (HORSE is so tired) with your friends.

You chip the ball until you hit your spot exactly, counting the number of strokes it took to hit it. When I say hit your spot, I don’t mean roll the ball there, I mean on the fly. Then your friends take turns at it counting their strokes. The person who takes the fewest strokes to hit it gets a “G” and gets to pick the next spot and start again. Whoever spells GOOSE first, wins! See, with HORSE, you’re eliminated when you spell it. With GOOSE, you win when you spell it! It keeps people from being eliminated so everyone gets their practice.

Now feed me.
Love,
The Goose

Sounds great – I think I’m going to try it!

I’m a little concerned that her responses might not all be this useful, but I guess we’ll see.

If you have a question for The Goose, you can e-mail it to her at askthegoose@thegolfchick.com or use the link in the sidebar. Update: Since the Goose’s passing, she still manages to check her email from time to time. She doesn’t answer all questions, but it’s worth a shot because she seems to be wiser than ever now.

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Golf Vacation: After the golf

Wow, did you guys fly all the way to Nashville just to play Greystone and then go home?

Well, no. We had our “away tournament” with our club in Primm (California/Nevada state line) on one weekend and the next weekend we were going to Bowling Green, Kentucky for the NHRA Hot Rod Reunion to participate in the drag races. Greg’s dad owns and drives the Beach Racing car in the Nostalgia Eliminator class and Greg is on the crew. Nashville is the closest airport and we decided to make the week in between our golf vacation.

The drag racing weekend

Beach Racing is good friends with Larry Dixon, Sr., and even though he is largely a one-man show, the Beach crew is his neighbor in the pits and helps when necessary. Prior to the Kentucky race, they were in Indianapolis together for another race there. We couldn’t make that one because of our golf tournament, but we met them in Bowling Green.

After playing our round at Greystone, we picked up the crew chief at the airport and the three of us met up with Greg’s stepmom (and co-owner of the car) for dinner. The next morning, we all drove up to Bowling Green together in our rental SUV, which also served as the tow vehicle for the race car.

Rather than having different classes for Nostalgia Eliminator based on index, the race was set up to do staggered starts based on your chosen index OR you could just run Open Fuel and go as fast as you can. Usually, we run in the 7.60 (NE1) class, but staggered lights are difficult for a twitchy driver. Plus, I think he was just really hot to try Open Fuel.

Greg and Lou (crew chief – in the hat) waiting for the signal to start up the car.

In our first pass, the car was tuned so powerfully the tires didn’t hook up right away. I forget what we ran, but it wasn’t enough to qualify. The crew used the data to work out a better tune up, and we ran a 7.36 in our next pass, which was exhilarating. We were among the top qualifiers but got bumped on the last pass. There was to be one more qualifying pass to admit one more car to the show, and I think the crew felt confident that our next pass would secure that spot.

Wet blanket

Then it rained. Actually, it poured. Evidently, the track staff is familiar with such sudden downpours. The announcers told people to take cover if they could and within seconds, the staff had removed all the electronics (i.e. the tree) from the dragstrip, and all the cars out there were soaked.

Back in the pits, we didn’t take the threat of the clouds seriously enough to put the car away like some of the Top Fuel cars did right next to us. Our E-Z-ups protected the cars but we had to keep pushing up on them with a broomstick as the water collected on top. The rain stopped and the staff almost had the track dry enough to race when it started up again. This time it wasn’t as much of a downpour but it was enough to stop racing for the night.

Dixon in his car, preparing for a pass. Lou in the foreground.

The Cacklefest

The award winning show cars paraded out on the track for the fans while they figured out what to do about that night’s planned “Cacklefest.” For those who don’t know, a Cacklefest is a fan-favorite exhibition in which all the famous nostalgia race cars start up and go down the track, then sit and cackle their engines in a noisy showcase of fumes. With a wet track, it was too dangerous for them to run down the track, so they were all towed or pushed to the center of the track, and fired up at once to just sit and cackle there. Dixon was piloting (cackling) the famous Howard Cams “Rattler.”

Things got ugly out on the track. One of the cars peeled out (accidentally?) in reverse and smashed a man against the wall of the track. Down toward the other end, I was just on the other side of the wall and saw one of the track workers apparently seizing and choking and fall to the ground. His friends and/or co-workers came to his aid, but it was all such chaos out there. Fans continued to scream and shout for the cacklefest, either not knowing or not caring that a couple of people could be dead out there. The EMTs were on the scene pretty quickly, but it seemed like an eternity before the cacklefest finally ended. I thought they would have stopped it when things went south but they just kept cackling and cackling. After it was over, I went out on the track in the chaos to try to find our team (we got separated right before the cackling began). I went and talked to Larry for awhile and, sure enough, our crew chief showed up there. We went back to our pits under a somewhat somber veil.

We had a little barbecue back in the pits and we got word that the man who had been hit was fine. He had been on one of those “rascal” types of motorized chairs and while he was shocked, he wasn’t hurt. We also heard that the man I saw in distress actually had been having a heart attack and was taken to the hospital. I never heard anything more about it. I hope he was okay.

The party’s over

Now that there was to be an abbreviated race, they would eliminate the last qualifying pass and if the weather held up, the races would go on with the limited field. We were done. We set off some fireworks and ended the night in celebratory manner. Even though we weren’t in, it had been a fun experience. The next day, it was back to being hot and muggy without rain and we watched some of the top fuel races, packed up the cars and our pit areas and headed back to Nashville where we stayed the night and flew home the next day.

Thanks for the memories

I got a lot of great video footage of the events. A week later, when they arrived in the RV towing the trailer with the car, I got that on film as well. Then I spent a few solid days editing the footage into a DVD I called “The Kentucky Experience.” It’s a fun little 30-minute flick set to music with some of the original sound – funny quips and vroom-vrooms – worked into it. It was a big hit with the team and a nice enhancement to all the still photos everyone took to memorialize the events.

Golf vacation and racing weekend – check.

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