Magazine December 09, 2019, Issue

The Non-Golf Cart

(Michael Godek/Getty Images)
On the ultimate conveyance

My other car is a golf cart. Or, looked at more veraciously, my other golf cart is a car.

Worry not, this isn’t some anti-car, pro-electric-vehicle, quinoa-and-Gaia, you’ve-ruined-my-future-you-rotters sort of thing. Quite the opposite, in fact; if I had my way, we would immediately pass a constitutional amendment guaranteeing the right to drive. It’s just that I don’t usually need a car now that I have a golf cart. I can get to the beach on my cart; I can go to the bank on my cart; I can go to the supermarket and the hardware store and the pharmacy on

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Readers write in with fond memories of fatherhood, some long-held admiration, and some prefix pedantry.

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