…was the golf cart we’d rented for the week.
Our wedding weekend was a largely DIY affair that owed most of its charm to several days of volunteer labor on behalf of the wedding party and various family and friends. The cart was invaluable for zipping back and forth on the gravel road between the main house (ceremony site) and barn (reception venue) and the sheer joy of driving it around served as a bit of a reward for the work.
It was largely monopolized by the groomsmen, who used it to transport material and themselves, as a moving platform for hanging lanterns (see above,) and maybe for a little joyriding through the woods and fields.
I personally tended to walk, since the combination of the wedding dress being a particular size and my refusal to deny myself the excellent food present that week meant that a chance for counterbalancing physical activity was welcome. The golf cart was electric, which meant that I could barely hear it coming and was liable to get ambushed on the road by a bunch of dudes brandishing ladders and/or shillelaghs.
It also made a comfy bench.
Of course, we’d rented it for a specific purpose – transporting guests to and from the parking area and from the ceremony to the reception. There was talk of a horse and carriage, but that would have been less nimble, seemed a little like overkill and definitely would have provided less joy to my cousins because they wouldn’t have gotten to chauffeur people around during the wedding eve barbecue.
I had no idea what to expect from the whole thing. I certainly didn’t anticipate that the golf cart, a relative afterthought on the rental list, would be the most crucial inanimate object to the whole enterprise both for getting things done and for bringing people joy.