Par 4, 317 yards, dogleg right
I'm annoyed by the roar of a train behind me, an eerie thunder on the lonely and darkening course.
I'm in the twilight of the day, and of my golfing season.
The tee is set snugly amid the trees and leaves little landing room up ahead.
In likely my last drive of the year, and I end on a fitting note, slicing it to the adjacent fairway. I take 7-wood from there and think I've planted it on the green, though it's too dark to tell. I'm left with a 32-footer with an ambiguous break. I start it right and leave it pin high, but 3 feet right. I sink it for my first par of the day, on the last hole of the year.
The clock strikes seven; my midnight.