In Hawaiian resorts, golf carts are a means of transportation for tourists to explore volcanic landforms; in California wineries, modified golf carts carry wine tasters through the grape vines; even in some open-air venues of film festivals, golf carts have become secret passages for stars to avoid the crowds.

Its form is constantly breaking through imagination: some are transformed into mini bars, with champagne chilled in the car refrigerator; some are equipped with solar panels to practice sustainable concepts in environmentally friendly golf courses; and some are graffitied by artists to become mobile installation art. These mutated golf carts have long been separated from the context of golf and have become a concrete expression of people's primitive desire for "free movement".

When the sunset gilded the golf course, the last golf cart drove back to the garage. The wheels were printed on the grass and slowly disappeared, but the conversations that took place in the car, the scenery that passed by the car window, and the warmth of the palms that held the steering wheel fell into memory like grass seeds. Perhaps one day, when we stand on the tee again and look at the golf cart slowly approaching in the distance, we will suddenly understand: what it carries is never a simple displacement, but the time that people spend between nature and rules, which is both calm and focused.