When I was a wee lad, my father built three go-carts for my older brothers to buzz around a small track he also built in the back yard. I was too young to drive and by the time I was old enough to do so, the carts were long gone and the track was a vegetable garden. I always felt like I missed out. Now, not quite 60 years later, I have my own go-cart. OK, "go" is spelled "golf" in this case, but I can bomb around in it to my hearts content. I can zip to the town squares, down to get my mail, over to get some groceries, around to swim laps at the pools and even take it out on the golf courses when I golf. I've been here 2 1/2 years and I will still take the golf-cart out over the car whenever I can. And every time you see me behind the wheel of my go-cart, I've got a smile on my face.
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