Joe, Florence, and I have been trying to improve our golf skills by practicing at the driving range every week. At first, I was doing really well. I could actually hit the balls and they would fly straight-- be it, not very far, but straight. The more and more I go, the worse and worse I get. The stupid little golf balls now fly through the air at a very sharp angle, likely to hit anyone or anything that comes across it's path. It's unpredictable... in a predictable kind of way.
Today, for example, Joe and I went to a new driving range north of where we live for a change in atmosphere. Each person's personal space on the range was divided with waist-high green metal waffle dividers. Directly behind us was the parking lot. I bet you can see where this is going. The first few balls I hit were decent. The more I hit, however, the more the balls kept hitting the metal waffle dividers and ricocheting into the green. Luckily (?) I wasn't hitting them hard enough to do any damage. I did have images in my head of me actually nailing a ball into the dividers where it would bounce off and hit me in the face (maybe that's why I wasn't hitting them that hard, it was all subconscious). Anyways, maybe about 15 minutes into my game, I hit a ball so hard (and at such a sharp angle), it hit the metal divider, bounced across the driving range fence into the parking lot where it hit... (brace yourself) a pretty black, expensive Lexus. No damage was done (it hit the wheel) but I decided that I shouldn't push my luck anymore. See, my golfing was unpredictable in a predictable kind of way. It was only a matter of time before something serious happened.
To Make Anything at All
2 weeks ago