Awkward Teen Years Of My Life.

Golf Cart

I haven't updated on here or my diary for a while. No excuse other than I couldn't be f*cked.

Seeming as I am in a positive mood, I've chose to share a short story about how @Just_Tarble and I got our father banned from some golf club. 

We spent most of the summer with our father, I was around twelve at the time and Tarble was ten. Our father thought it would be a great idea to get some father and son time by taking us to play golf with him. He had met up with some of his friends and we had to listen to them discuss boring crap, mostly one was being consoled over a divorce and our father found that a perfect opportunity to bring up the time he found out about our mother cheating on him. Basically, the usual family drama being brought up after they make a remark how they wish to no longer discuss it. Soon as someone even mentions the word 'cheating' in front of my father he goes off on rant about it, should of been there when I had been lectured by him after he found out about my affair... he didn't speak to me for months, it was bliss. 

After spending a few hours playing mind numbing golf, Tarble was more into it than I was... he likes boring stuff so no surprises there. We were left to stand by the golf cart that had keys left in the ignition- what bright spark would leave a key left inside the cart? ... my father that's who.

"Do no touch the golf cart, I'll be right back!" our father gave us a stern look before leaving to go to the bathroom.

Tarble and I gave each other a knowing look, we both had the same idea and jumped inside the cart. I being the eldest chose to drive the cart. It was the only bit of fun I had, we drove past a group of people and laughed as they dived out of the way one guy fell into the lake as we almost hit him. There was a group of baby ducks ahead and Tarble grabbed the wheel off me assuming I wouldn't avoid them on time, thanks to his quick thinking we ran over a rat instead and well.. it was attached to the tyre as we continued to drive on leaving a blood trail behind us, we swerved across the course, snapping a wheel off in the process and crashed into a marquee where a bar mitzvah was taken place.

Safe to say, we were no longer invited to play golf with our father after that.