Tim --
I realized, finally and conclusively, just how golf-mad I've become two weekends ago, when I drove, alone, the 850 miles between the Twin Cities and Chicago and back again. (Had to go retrieve a car whose transmission had died during a Thanksgiving trip to the in-laws'.)
Here it was, December. Cold. A little snow here and there -- but not much. I was listening to Christmas music all the way down -- via all-Christmas-music-all-December stations, first in the Twin Cities, then in Eau Claire, then Madison, then Milwaukee, then Chicago. And for 850 miles, all the way down and all the way back, I don't think I had a single thought that wasn't about all of the wonderful, rolling, wide-open golf-course land within sight of Interstate 94.
It's not the Sand Hills, where one could throw a dart at a map and come up with great land -- but I never drive through western Wisconsin (roughly from Eau Claire west, but east of Eau Claire, too) without "seeing" innumerable unbuilt courses.
Good ones, too.