Tuesday, July 13, 2010
A Wild Ride in a Stolen Car
The friend of a friend of a cyber pal said I should meet up with this bloke for some golf. Being the golf whore I am and knowing he had a car, I arranged a round with this American fellow whose name shall be withheld in case the authorities read this. Would that make me an accomplice?
We arranged to play at Golspie, my other club. Two other chaps joined us to make a four ball. Mr. X arranged to pick us up in front of the house at 9:00 a.m for the 15 minute drive up to Golspie. We were waiting... and waiting. He drives up at 9:20 in a huge white people mover van. We loaded up and off we went. I rode shotgun while my two mates climbed in the back. Mr. X takes off, one hand on the wheel, one hand holding a steaming cup of coffee, one hand adjusting the radio, and one hand emphasizing points as he talked. Well, it seemed like he had four hands.
I asked him, "Why did you rent such a large vehicle." He replied, "We needed it because we are traveling with my wife, kids, and mother and father in-law. But there is more room now that we left mom in Dublin."
"You left Mom in Dublin, where did you get the van?"
"I picked it up in Dublin," he replied as he took a sip of coffee and passed a tractor and Vauxhall as we neared a curve.
"But Dublin is in another country. They allowed you to take the car on the ferry across to Troon?"
"No, they said I couldn't bring it to Scotland, but I did anyway," he replied as we tailgated a delivery van before passing it on the bridge across Loch Fleet.
"So we are riding in a stolen car?"