Back to the inbox we go. This one, a special request.
"Dave, what's your most memorable funny story from the time you grew grass"
Ok so, first off, there are two stories that I just cannot tell. Can't. It could involve jail time for my crime and the crimes of others... and we just wont go there. That leaves us with this one, my favorite.
It was the summer of 1984, the summer before I was to start college. I I was working on the crew at Pole Creek Golf Club, and also three nights a week on air at the local radio station. And I was deeply involved in 4-H Horse and Leadership projects. Via the radio station gig, I met a beautiful girl from Texas who was spending the summer at her parent's second home in Colorado. She thought it was cool that I was doing radio stuff. I don't think she cared about the greenkeeping so much. Silly girl. We liked hanging out. She worked at the local A&W so we had to take advantage of whenever we could to see each other.
Via the radio station gig, I met a beautiful girl from Texas who was spending the summer at her parent's second home in Colorado. She thought it was cool that I was doing radio stuff. I don't think she cared about the greenkeeping so much. Silly girl.
Summer was winding down and our last few nights together were approaching. So we gathered up some beers and some blankets and we decided to cuddle up under the stars on the hill separating the putting green and the first tee at the golf course. It was awesome, a youthful indulgence of the combo of alcohol and hormones. And in the throes of some kind of passion, I heard the noise... the telltale snap and pop of a Toro 690 sprinkler head right next to us. And in my move to avoid a direct shot from the big nozzled cannon, my elbow connected with K's nose. I felt the bone give and there was no question I had broken it... and knocked her out. Cold. I gathered her up in the blankets and carried her to my 1972 Ford pickup. Threw her in the seat. Seatbelts? Please. This is small town Colorado. And not exactly knowing what to do, I figured we would drive to my house and sort it all out.
As I pulled out of the dirt parking lot of the golf course and out onto the country road, it occurred to me that this wasn't a good situation and I really didn't know how hurt she was. And suddenly a set of headlights was in front of us, coming right at us. I noticed lights on top, a sheriff's car. He was looking down and didn't see us. It was hit him or run off into a pretty steep barrow ditch. I chose the ditch. and when the truck's snow plow frame stopped us abruptly, my semi-groggy passenger went flying into the dashboard while I took a bite of the steering wheel.
What I remember next was a little blurry. Deputy Driver opened my door and saw my girlfriend lying on the floorboards, bleeding, and blood all over the truck. I was bleeding from my lower lip. The sheriff kept asking me with we were ok and I simply said, "My girlfriend". He and I proceeded to pull her out of the truck, load her in the police car along with me and sped off down the road, on the radio announcing to the world that we were headed to the emergency clinic, five miles away.
The on-call doctor and a nurse were already there. Again, I uttered, "my girlfriend" and she was taken inside. I staggered along behind them. And it became clear to me at this point that the cop thought he ran us off the road, causing her injury. I tried to explain to him what actually happened, but he was having none of it. He thought he had caused a wreck and felt awful about it.
He and I proceeded to pull her out of the truck, load her in the police car along with me and sped off down the road, on the radio announcing to the world that we were headed to the emergency clinic, five miles away.
This all happened in a small community. As a volunteer on the ambulance service, my father liked to listen to his police scanner and happened to hear my license plate broadcast. He and my mom arrived at the clinic five minutes later, sure that I was seriously injured or dead.
By this time, Girlfriend K was lucid and telling everyone I had hit her. Suddenly I found myself explaining the whole thing, and there was but one thing left to do, call the girlfriend's mom. That wasn't a pleasant thing. She already was bummed that her daughter was dating the DJ/greenkeeper, so she came with some ideas already in her head. Once she was completely convinced that I didn't smash daughter's nose on purpose or in anger, however, she chilled. A little.
By this time, Girlfriend K was lucid and telling everyone I had hit her.
And did I mention this was the first time that her mom had met my parents? Yeah. Nice.
So with her beautiful nose put back in place by the doctor and my lip stitched up, the evening ended with my dad and I pulling the truck out of the ditch. Deputy Dan was so mortified that he ran us off the road that he offered to pay for a tow truck, but we got it out. I knew that if word of this got out to Mike Kosak, my boss, I would no longer be employed. But it seemed like all the loose ends had been tied up. K went home with her mom and I went home to sleep for a couple hours before work the next morning at the golf course. I came in early that morning to collect the beer cans and "wrappers" that we left on the golf course, in the dark. And I prayed that Mike would say nothing to me. He never did.
Some days later, we had a crew party, an end of summer tradition with golf, food and significant others invited. My girlfriend, who had otherwise forgiven me my sins, declined to come because of her two black eyes. I don't blame her. And our worlds drifted apart as we both started college and found different paths.
So that's the story of how I nearly killed my girlfriend one summer night at the golf course having innocent teenage fun. Is it funny? It is now.
Thanks for reading!
Dave Wilber is a Agronomic Consultant, Coach and Advisor and is owner of Wilber Turf and Soil Services. Dave can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org