This thread reminds me of when I played Newtonmore Golf Club, up near Aviemore in Scotland. I was about 15 and don't remember a great deal about it: I remember a jet flying overhead about 20 feet off the ground (it seemed like, anyway - it was close enough for my dad to duck). I remember standing on the 7th tee and realising I'd already lost 6 golf balls in the knee high rough and only had 3 left in my bag. And I remember the 18th.
The 18th is a short par 4, 350 yards or so. About 20 yards short of the green the road to the clubhouse cuts across the hole, which is quite nice when you are driving in. Anyway, I'd hit a decent drive but my dad had hooked his badly and, before he departed into the wilerness to hit his second, I remember him warning me (several times) not to hit unless I was sure no cars were crossing.
So I'm standing over the ball. No cars in sight. I do my pre-shot routine which is a complete copy of Seve, so I do the whole standing behind the ball visualising thing. Still no sign of any cars. I stand over the ball, look up (again, mimicking Seve as much as possible). Still no cars. So I hit. I wasn't worried as, provided I struck the ball decently, the road shouldn't really be in play.
Naturally I caught the shot heavy. But that wasn't what caused me to immediately panic. The car driving in from the right was the problem. It was immediately apparent that my ball was on a collision course. I scanned from the ball to the car about a dozen times as time stood still and the ball arched towards its doom.
It bounced on the road, about 6 inches in front of the car, over the bonnet (just missing the windscreen) as the car sped on, and rolled onto the green (which was blind from where I'd played). I stood, white as a sheet and still frozen in terror, as my dad wandered back over.
"How'd you get on?" he said.
"Yeah fine," I lied. "Should be on the green."