Crazy drivers

A junior-high chum was shifting interstate and the rest of his family were busily packing up their belongings. "C'mon, we have to get rid of these," he said, indicating a bucket of grubby golf balls. We took the bucket, a wood and some tees to a patch of high ground and systematically drove all of the balls off into the distance, towards a row of houses. God help me, it seemed logical at the time.