My new (very very old) clubs take to the range

Like a man in his midlife crisis ripping down the freeway in his new family vehicle (2 seater porsche) at 120 miles per hour, I decided it was time to give the new clubs a test drive. There really was nothing like that first time at the range with my sweet set of rust covered clubs, lovingly wrapped in their red plaid vinyl bag. As I walked past bags reading Callaway and Taylor Made with pockets for balls, tees, wallets, velvet lined pockets for a person's delicate items, and even a lined pocket for "sodas" to keep thier owners hydrated on the course, I thought I am finally a golfer. Sure my bag barely held six balls and a small bag of tees forget keeping a six pack cold, but nevertheless I was there I was in the world of golf...practice golf but golf no doubt. My friend Dave and I grabbed a couple of mats side by side and got ourselves "warmed up". Dave had been golfing for a while and was a serious factor in me being interested in the sport. He told me he would help me learn how to play and we could go out together during the summer. Dave watched me take my first swing, which in my head was as graceful as a seasoned ballerina. In reality it was more similar to that of the great Charles Barkley...before Hank Haney had any input in the matter. Dave being the kind supportive friend he always is told me that it looked "great...for my first time". I definitely did not hit the ball and more likely didn't even come into the balls 4 foot personal bubble, but it was a start. After several more swings and misses, looking like Pedro Cerrano from the movie Major League trying to hit the curve ball, I finally made contact with one. The ball wiped out several blades of grass like the mower blades on my father's Jacobsen ride on mower and came to rest near the 100 yard sign. I was beaming and proud that I finally made contact with the ball and that it went 100 yards. I was, of course, using the driver which made the whole event all the more amusing as I later thought back on it, but I hit the ball.
I will never forget hearing the sounds of real metal drivers striking into the range balls. Dave had just come into possession of a brand new Taylor Made Burner Bubble driver ,that his grandfather got for him, and it sounded awesome. He stroked ball after ball straight down the middle right past the 200 yard marker with the ease and grace of Fred Astaire. He gave me pointer after pointer and none of them seemed to stick but hey I was at least making contact on every fifth swing. That day I went through a medium bucket using nothing but that old red wooden driver and I dont think I got one ball over 3 feet high or past that elusive 100 yard marker, but I had a blast. Me and one of my best friends together enjoying one of the most challenging sports in the world and seeing some, albeit little, progress. That little progress however is what keeps me coming back to this day. The hundred bad shots I hit cannot even come close to bringing me down from those 3 great PGA looking shots, and that is why I LOVE golf!