I learned a life (and golf) lesson after my car flipped into a ditch

“What’s the point?”

As we drove in a car filled with brown McDonald’s bags and quarter bottles of Coke, my 17-year-old nephew suddenly turned Scottie Scheffler’s full attention to me. At this summer’s Open Championship, the world’s top golfer posed the question as he pondered why shots, championships and majors were so important to him, when in fact they weren’t what mattered most to him.

Only my nephew may be from an even number more Where there is existentialism, there is perhaps just a hint of teenage fear of life after 19.

“Like, if I play golf for fun only Golf is played for fun,” he pondered, “What’s the point of playing golf? “

Adding to his anxiety was the reason for our trip: a visit to a college golf course. He works very hard. Claims he reads the site. But what if they don’t want him? What if, yes…golf is just golf?

“Because you’ll get another chance,” I said.

He disagrees. I keep going.

“Maybe when you’re 20, you’re going to be really great. Or 30. Or never. But I always think you’re going to get another shot. Not good at driving? try to restore. Bad hole? and more. Bad round? Come back tomorrow. Maybe it all comes together. Maybe not. You are in control. “

Those were some great rites of passage.

Or maybe I’m full of turf.

because you are not always Take another shot. You’re not always behind the wheel.

There may still be people driving.

Ironically, I thought the same thing about ten hours ago when I saw a pair of headlights inches from my head.

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At 10:30 pm the night before, the shared bike I was riding in was hit by a car that ran a stop sign. We were hit on the driver’s side, where the driver and I were sitting. The car flipped onto its roof. We glided about 25 yards. The car fell into the ditch and then somehow flipped back onto its tires.

Obviously, you know the outcome. After all I am writing this. I took the photo above. What else would you like to know?

How are you?

Yes, I am. I felt pain on my left side; it turned out I had a broken rib. My right ankle was bruised. My right hip feels weird. I have a wound on the top of my head. It made me wonder, oddly, which bone I would choose to break if I was forced to choose, and I chose the ribs, so I guess that’s good.

Did you joke about what happened?

I kept telling my wife that I didn’t know if I was okay after the other car hit me.

How is your wife doing after all this?

She wasn’t sure about my head.

How is the driver? What about the other driver?

Well, at the time, all things considered. The person who hit us required an ambulance, but it sounds like he or she was okay.

ambulance?

Yes, when I finally got out of the car, the headlights were everywhere. It’s possible a passerby called 911. After a short search, I even found the audio of the alarm. Eventually two ambulances, two fire trucks and five or six police cars came, one of which finally took me to where I lived. The officer and I actually talked a little about golf.

Any coincidence thoughts?

you do not know.

Must tell.

My flight was delayed that night. The rideshare also took a different route than I was used to.

Any random thoughts?

Want to hear about my seatbelt?

continue.

I can’t find the latch for it.

Oh no.

So I’m going to let it go. I’ve done this before, it was stupid. But when we left, I turned on my phone light, found it, dug it out and locked it.

Wow.

What should I know about my golf clubs?

must. Are they still one?

They are. Maybe you can connect some dots too. We lowered the right rear seat and placed the club vertically on the trunk. If they were on the left side, I would most likely be on the road when the car flipped over.

Holy…

There is more. The club comes in a travel case with a hard-shell top that prevents the rear passenger door from collapsing – it’s the only door that doesn’t. I was able to get out; you never know how important that is.

illusory. So, what does that moment like when the car comes to a stop?

crazy. Our cell phones are constantly trying to call 911; the technology is impressive. I wonder if I’m okay. I had my blood checked. I checked to see if I could move. I asked the driver if it was OK. Surreal.

How does it feel at impact?

To be honest, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.

So what?

Car lights rushed towards us. The bumps upon impact. Unknown. One second you were looking down at your phone. Over the next 15 days, you’ll be feeling up in the air and things will become extremely important. When will the car stop? What will happen on the way? I also said something to myself as the car skidded on its roof and my head was inches from the pavement.

What is that?

not now. not now. Please not now.

Over and over again.

But that’s not the case.

After the police car dropped me off, I ate a Subway sandwich. My nephew bought it for me. He knew I would be back late and hungry.

About six hours later—I got maybe two hours of sleep that night—we were on the road again. I’m in pain. Sneezing is the worst. If you’re curious about what that feels like, pick up a 7-iron, hand it to someone, and tell them to swing it into your chest. But I was good enough to go. We stopped at McDonald’s. We visited the school. Overnight. Went back the next day. The next day, the college’s golf coach called. He wanted my nephew to join the team. yes.

He would go on to be a big G golfer. What’s the point? He has answered his own question.

but…

Like I told him, he was shot too.

Like I got after the accident.

So grab them while they’re there because you never know where they may take you.

Or when they disappear.

alarm! Golf is a metaphor for life! alarm! Is it a bit too melodramatic? perhaps. Let’s blame painkillers.

But take a few shots and take them in again and again.

Be grateful that you can take these photos and that those photos may take you somewhere, even if it’s just another photo.

That’s the point.

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