Dawn round, black clouds, steady score
The sky broke open on the third tee, and two partners considered retreat. A vented umbrella snapped into its mount, the hood cinched, and towels rotated like pit‑crew work. Grips stayed trustworthy, a valuables pocket kept the yardage book crisp, and the push cart tracked through shallow streams. Par‑bogey‑par felt heroic, and coffee afterward tasted like victory.