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Absolute Truth

© Bill Howard

Road trips come in all shapes and sizes. Some are, quite simply, a blast. They are filled with the riotous laughter of friends, children, and spouses on the way to or from a destination that everyone will enjoy. The other end of the spectrum would be road trips of the solo variety.

As a man of Southern heritage, I'm quite used to hopping in the car and spinning the odometer forward a quick 500 miles. I also prize time to think. But the trip I just finished concerned me a great deal.

On Monday afternoon I lit out from the southern tip of Florida and headed for my ancestral home in Macon, Georgia. I was by myself and on the way to attend a family funeral. Funerals always lead me to take stock of my life thus far. My upcoming nighttime drive would afford me ample time to do just that.

All who have made this dastardly drive up the state of Florida know the following; the drive itself is endless, the scenery is dull, the tolls are astronomical, and the radio choices are limited to country music and fire and brimstone preachers. In other words, plenty of time to think. The way I looked at it I was facing the dual threat of boredom and excessive introspection.

If you are wondering when I'll get around to the golf part, we're there. It didn't take me long to realize that if I kept dwelling on death and the current state of my life I'd be clinically depressed in no time at all. I needed to think happy thoughts. I chose golf.

All manner of things influenced my extremely chaotic thinking on the way upstate. Passing a golf course, or even a billboard, sent my brain hopscotching here and there. Names of partners and opponents past, great courses and friends, shots I'm still proud of, clubs I've loved and lost (or destroyed as an impetuous youth), the things golf has taught me... you get the idea.

The following are just some of the things I mulled over during the first half of the trip and consider absolute truths:

The feel of healthy golf course grass under your bare feet is one of life's most beautiful things. If you have never played golf barefoot ( or football on the fairway of a par 5), put it on your "to do" list immediately.

It's just plain stupid to have a south Florida golf course named "Highlands" . There aren't any highlands in a flat area of the state. Same with "Valley". Even "Hills" is very iffy until well north of Gainesville.

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