Those were the days, teeing it up on the quirky nine holer down the street that was my second home for my youth. The dew was a rub of the green and we all compensated for the speed by hiting the ball harder. We loved those overcast days when the dew stayed all day.
Now I go to a high end club on a dewy morning and they have "overnight moisture police", rolling over hill and dale with hoses and whips, hiding every trace of surface moisture before a groggy foursome is allowed to tee off.