CarTTalk

If you’re considering putting your money on someone who will eventually hit the Lotto stay away from me---head to your nearest bank for a deposit, bury whatever cash you have on you in a mayonnaise jar in your backyard or just run, don’t walk, to your nearest toilet and give your cash a quick flush.

I, with one minor exception have proven to be what Walls Street refers to as a walking, talking Bear Market.

With a penchant for chasing my own creativity. I lost at the Chuck ‘Em business, an attempt to merch T shirts, caps, flags with the Chuck ‘em brand. I was playing on the NC State football coach Chuck Amato’s name.

It tanked!

My son and I invested in property off the Gulf of Mexico and waded away from that little investment about $60,000 lighter around the old change belt. 

And don’t get me started on the long-time-ago investment tip from one of my college buddies---who happened to be the president of the biggest bank in a state that I shan’t name here. That one cost me and our little LLC about, $20,000 when the “deal” dumped.

But not so fast my friends.

There will always be CarTTalk, a golf course review that I wrote for the Charlotte Observer. Hardly a great monetary success, but it gave my best friend/college roommate, Dave Barbin, and me several years of free golf from what he called, during bar talk, one of the game’s greatest scams.

He was eventually put on notice regarding the use of the word scam because it wasn’t!

Well, at least not in my case. I had to write the reviews because he couldn’t have done it if I had held his beers and crayons for him. What he could do was ride along in the cart, drink Coors and (occasionally) make a witty comment or two.

So we were, in a sense, known as The CarTTalk guys in Charlotte, especially to bar rats who read Charlotte.com and knew Barbin.

He, of course, while I was paying for our first beers of the night, typically reinforced his “celebrity” with a boisterous  “CarTTalk in the house!” All the while, checking to see if there might be a “friendly” lady or two within ear shot.

Hey, no complaints here. Considering all my failures chasing my own creativity, this was fun. We played a lot of free golf and frankly I rather enjoyed writing the reviews which gave our readers a few laughs and insights into local courses through our CarTTalk ratings: We featured on a scale of one to ten Gracious Greens, Friendly Fairways. We had a Heaven Hole, a Hell Hole. We even rated the Beverage Girls One to Four Beers Up.  

Was I aware that I’d lifted the name from the famous and wildly successful Car Talk guys, the New Englanders who gave auto advice on their PBS radio call-in Car Talk show? 

Of course. Those guys had great senses of humor so I couldn’t see them lawyering up for a couple of beer-swilling duffers out to have a good time and play a little free golf.

I was right.

It worked and I, just for several years, finally had come up with something that might be considered a success.

And frankly, for all the golf we played and the fun we had, the highlight was a CarTTalk phone call pre-round tradition.

We busted our friends’ balls about CarTTalk and free golf and did so relentlessly.  There was one friend, Jeff Smith,  (a great guy by the way and a golfer who knew how to pinch a penny) who just couldn’t get over the fact that we were playing all these great courses free!

So, the tradition was simply this. Just before we teed off, we’d cell phone up and give Jeff a call.

Disguising my voice, I’d say, “Is this Jeff Smith?

“Yes, it is!”

“Well, this is Mr. Cairns with CarTTalk calling, and we just wanted you to know that we are in Pinehurst preparing to tee off on Number 6 and not only will be comped, the pro was so excited about our coverage of his course he’s thrown in a sleeve of ProV1s for each of us!”

“F-you both!” was followed by Jeff hanging up and Barbin and me off to the first tee high-fiving!

Still with us?

Good, well you may remember that I’ve fessed up by admitting about not being the luckiest guy in the world.

Toward the end of our reign as CarTTalk guys, we made a little mistake. Our friend Jeff happened to live on a fairway at Cary N.C.’s Prestonwood, the home of the Jimmy V Foundation’s annual golf tournament. So of course, we invited ourselves to Jeff’s house to watch the “other” celebrities’ parade by, the ones who were playing in the Tournament. 

This story begins with our arrival, and the two of us spotting Jeff with friends and family down by the fairway. We trotted up on his fairway facing deck with Barbin shouting his signature battle cry. 

“CarTTalk in the house!”

This was the ultimate Gotcha’, because hearing Barbin’s introduction, Jeff’s lovely young niece, who was down by the fairway ropes not only knew who we were she insisted on getting her photo taken with us.

“Uncle Jeff,” she said. “I’ve gotta get my picture with those two. My mom and I love their website. Wait until she sees me with those guys!”

Her father cautioned her, saying that if she wanted that last photo on the camera that he’d have to click off Charles Barkley!

But she remained insistent. And so, the lovely grip and grin, a real hugger with us, was posed and taken there on Jeff’s deck. The look on Barbin’s face was priceless, so proud and so very much the celeb.  A great CarTTalk moment!

Fast forward about twenty minutes. I had gone into Jeff’s kitchen to grab a beer, and Jeff’s niece came in and said, “May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” I said.

“Well, lately I’ve been hearing this racket under my car, and my dad thinks it’s a loose universal joint. Uncle Jeff thinks it might be a broken exhaust pipe. I was wondering if you’d mind taking a look at it?”

Surprised by the question, I agreed to follow her to the driveway and take a look but wondered, out loud, why I might know.

Then she looked at me and said, “Well, you ARE the Car Talk Guys.”

Now I’m laughing, really out of control. “No,” I said, “We’re the CarTTalk guys. We wouldn't know an exhaust pipe from a 3 wood! We review golf courses.”

The look on her face was priceless. She ran down to the fairway shouting to her dad, “These guys are nobody. They aren’t the Car Talk guys.”

When her Uncle Jeff  had sorted out the confusion, he was literally rolling on the ground laughing.

Barbin, as usual, was unflappable. When I explained about the mistaken identity and all the laughter, he calmly said, “Oh, elevator going down. And, to think that we had to be outed by a relative of Jeff Smith.”