Much has been written about golf etiquette. And anyone who plays has his or her own set of standards.
If you play golf with me, these are my guidelines:
1. Skip the cart. Unless you've got a bad knee or we're playing in the Himalayas, let's walk. Golf should be exercise. Walking is good for us. You don't have to lug your bags over your shoulder. A pull-cart makes it easy. And when you're left and I'm right, someone doesn't need to be dropped off, forced to choose which club they'll need for the next shot.
2. Keep pace. There's nothing worse than being pushed from the group behind us. If we're struggling, let's not lally-gag with five practice swings for each shot. Step up to the green and putt. When the next group is a pitching wedge behind us, it's no time to read putts like Camilo Villegas.
3. Bring a snack. You see it happen quite often. You make the turn at 9 and someone runs off to get something to eat at the clubhouse. This creates a backup at the 10th tee, and the group behind us is watching us tee off. Bring a breakfast bar. A banana. A donut. Anything. No need to stop for lunch during a round of golf. We'll eat after we finish 18.
4. Get out of the woods. So you lost your ball. No biggie. It's OK to look for a minute, but don't turn it into a Lewis and Clark expedition. Most balls cost between $1 and $3. And if you're in the woods, you're probably playing with one you found. Forget it. Take a drop and swing away. Besides, trolling the woods violates Rule No. 2.
5. Keep smiling. You're spending 4-5 hours in a peaceful place. There are big, illustrious trees. Water. Birds. Soft green grass. Ideally, the sun is shining. You're not in the office. You're not answering to anyone. Regardless of how you're playing, be happy.
But bicyclists who think they are perfectly OK sharing the road with cars need to sober up.
Bikes just can't go as fast as cars. Sorry, but fine-tuned quads and hamstrings just don't match up to a 6-cylinder engine.
So when I'm driving and trying to catch a left-green arrow, get out of my way. Why are you slowing me down, pedaling furiously in front of me with your left-turn hand signal?
Do you see me driving on the side of road? No. That's your lane.
I have nothing against you. I appreciate the sport and have pedaled thousands of miles. I have climbed mountains, ridden into deep valleys, pedaled through baking sun and shivered through driving rain.
But I ride on the side of the road. Not down the middle.