It is with some sadness that we approach the outer Hamptons en route to our final destination. I had a great time in Montauk--golf, dog-swimming, plenty of tasty food from the ocean.
Southampton is the gateway to the sybaritic East End of Long Island. So for city people it represents pretty much the last chance for beach-town vibes before you have to exit the Montauk Highway, merge onto the I-495 and back into the everyday world.
Looking at a place like Southampton Golf Range, you can pretend that life hasn't changed all that much since the Sixties. You have to be thankful for such places still in the world, for who knows how much longer they'll be around.
The driving range has kind of a traveling carnival game vibe. They ought to give out stuffed animal prizes for hitting targets, because that's really what it feels like taking swings here. I'm not knocking it though, it actually makes for a nice counterpoint to the brow-furrowing, butt-clenching seriousness typical of most ball-whacking sessions.
Jalopy buckets full of random found balls are typical at roadside ranges, but here they've curated a nice collection of mostly Top-Flites. You could do a lot worse in my opinion. These things go pretty far and that's a nice change from my usual diet of limited-flight balls back at home.
In the head, a nice tribute to one of the all-time greats.
Most people drive back from the Hamptons and stop along the way for wine, or farm fresh corn and tomatoes and stuff. I stopped for range balls. I've got a problem, give me a break. Actually this turned out to be a really good practice session. Thus with dragging feet we depart the East End, to finish the too-short drive back home.