Another nine holes with my dad at the course out by the airport. I shot a 47. A new personal best. My drives were just about perfect. The rest of my shots were a mixed bag.

One hole stands out, the 8th, a par four. I hit a nice, easy drive dead-center of the fairway. Perfect shot. Second shot was somewhere around 150 yards. 5-iron. Still can't hit those damn long irons. I hit it very poorly. It ran over to the right. An ugly, ugly shot. The ball got to the green but was right. I realize at this moment that I'm not sure of the distance of the next shot. 30 yards, maybe. A nice easy s-wedge. I hit it perfectly. It was such an amazing shot. It floated high through the air.

It ended up inside two feet.

As I'm waiting for my dad to make his putt, an airplane takes off from somewhere off to the right. It's one of those Hooters planes.

My putt goes 180 degrees around from the left to the right side of the cup and falls for my par.