“He wants a golf gift?  What do you mean?” I asked Barbara.  She replied, “He’s going to Las Vegas, but not for gambling.  His cousin is in a golf tournament this winter, so he’s revved up and ready to do some golfing himself.  Please, Vic, get serious about this.”  To tell the truth, I had no idea where I could go to get Leonard a set of golf clubs, golf balls, or anything related to golf—neither did his wife.  So I set about trying to find a store where I could find something really classy for Leonard.  Not knowing the first thing about golf or golf courses or anything even remotely related to the sport, I went to the mall and visited one of those huge sports outlet stores.  I looked around, accepted help from one of the employees; but nothing looked exactly right.  The person that had tried to help me said, “I know this golf shop that my dad goes to.  It’s on Bloomfield Road near Highway 44.  Let me get the address for you.”  He came back with the address of the Golf Emporium.  It was eleven miles away in the south suburbs!  All right, now, this is for Leonard’s birthday, I reminded myself.  I decided I would make the journey the following Saturday.