Boogety Boogety

He came through the door giggling.  "What have you done this time?", I asked.  He giggled again and answered, "Oh, we were racing and I won."  I rolled my eyes.  This only made him laugh out loud.   My husband, if he lives to be 100 and can still get to the top of a hill, it's a sure bet he will go down the other side of it as fast as he can.

This time it seemed necessary to tweak the golf cart.  Golf carts are the main mode of transportation for the maintenance crew.  That is, unless someone has gone off and left an entire apartment full of furniture, but that is another story for another day.  Being a gear-head to start with, my husband loves to make sure that things run properly.  If it has wheels and a motor, then it should also run as fast as possible.  

He and two other grown men, were doing some weekly routine care and discussing their golf carts' performance.  My husband told them that he was sure his throttle needed adjusting and proceeded to do so.  While he was at it, he bypassed the governors and made a couple of changes he referred to as gizmos.  Not needing to know any real golf cart terminology, I didn't ask.

After they were satisfied with their work, they each took their golf cart to the Big Hill.  There are few flat areas in this neck of the woods and Big Hill is exactly what it sounds like.  

Three grown men, lined their carts up together at the top of the hill and let er' rip.  Listening to him tell this story, it was impossible not to laugh along with him as he described them sailing down the hill, all hooting like teenagers and that his cart really hauled the mail.  Luckily, they had the good sense to slow down before they hit the speed bump at the bottom.  Otherwise, golf carts and grown men would have been strewn everywhere.

Yes, the man loves racing and "the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys" rings true.  As the new season of NASCAR is about to begin, I will not have to worry about finding him going at break neck speeds on a golf cart.  He and millions of other men will be strapped in their recliners, waiting for the the engines to roar, and when they hear D.W. say, "Boogety, boogety, boogety boys! Let's go racin'!", a collective sigh will be heard world wide.