Floyd’s my sand wedge.
I had him special while down in Southern Taiwan, where many of the big-named club manufacturers have suppliers.
John Perry was my grandfather’s name, and the logo I designed and had engraved on there.
He was a Georgia cracker, my grandfather. But he enjoyed playing Florida and Orlando Golf, where the greens can be tricky, and so the short play is crucial. I often have Floyd with me on long trips, when I know things are going to get rural.
Floyd fits well in my rucksack.
He fits well in my little grubbies too, as I use him as a walking stick on trekking trips up in the mountains — in the Himalayas of Nepal and India, for example, or even the cities. Floyd accompanied me once too on a quite interesting trip down in the south of India, at the otherworldly tiger nature reserve, known as The Periyar Sanctuary. (Otherworldly due to the ghostly mists that hovered over the lake, along with the lone bare trees which eerily stuck out of it).
For wrist straps I use women’s hair bands. I twist it once around Floyd’s nozzle. Then I turn it once before putting it around my wrist. Primitive, I know. But theoretically it keeps Floyd from sliding down the mountain if I happen to slip, or lose faith in mankind, as well as all things hilly, and want to toss him — and I have. (Now I bring two hair bands along. I discovered after a few tries that I don’t really lose Floyd. I lose the hair bands!)
On the plains of India, or India proper, I have threatened to pull Floyd from my pack (one, two yanks upward, behind the left shoulder and he’s out!). I threaten to use Floyd on overly aggressive touts or hawkers, which you find in India, who simply won’t go away or die naturally.
Once I pulled out Floyd from my pack to use on a small gang of thieves. I’ve pulled out Floyd only 3 times though, in extreme occasions: twice in the western state of Rajasthan, probably the tourist Mecca of India; and once in New Delhi, when I thought my goose was cooked. Haven’t actually used Floyd on anybody. Yet.
Can’t play golf with Floyd. He’s too banged up from all the travel. All the rocks we’ve walked over together. The many practice swings taken over gravel, for absolutely no good reason at all. I dare not use him to play golf because, as I said, I made him myself and so he can’t be any good, right?
For a while now I’ve been thinking I could go in for some ‘Electronic Repair’.TGC In ladies-speak, that would be ‘retail therapy’, I believe.
It’s come to me recently, and timely I feel, to check out the selection of equipment on the Golf Channel’s website, to find drivers, putters, golf shoes and such online.
So to actually play golf? Yeah, I would probably need some new equipment. As for a walking stick, I’m stumbling along just fine, for now, with ole Floyd.