text:  would have one of our parents drop us off in the morning and they'd pick us up just as it was getting dark. We'd hit buckets, we'd putt, we'd eat French fries or whatever else we could buy for the $5 that was in our pockets. But this was in Seattle. And even in the summer, the weather didn't always cooperate. Do you think we cared? Of course not. It'd be pouring down rain, clubs flying out of my hand. Didn't matter. The lightning horn would sound. We'd play on.