Driver
We will not crank a head that was never a ram candidate
The driver audit is fifty-eight dollars of truth. Address lie and impact lie are often two different politicians. Thin Wasatch air then hides the miss as wind. People arrive wanting a heroic bite. They leave with a ticket that points at the irons.
What we measure
How it sits on the tee versus how it arrives
A driver can look upright at address and still be effectively flat at impact if the handle is late. Copper on a driver sole is a faint witness, so we add a face sticker and a camera. If the start line leaks and the sole is mute, we still write the mute down. Mute is data.
Altitude does not change the hosel. It changes the story you tell about a push. Read the canyon-air note if you want that argument in full sentences. The audit in Suite 9 is shorter: sit, arrive, photograph, refuse or — rarely — take a tiny bite on an older head that still has walls.
The usual ending
The leak was the 6-iron. The driver was a suspect with an alibi.
We are not being coy. Most bags that come in for a driver crank needed the iron family. We will say that while you are still on the pew, before you spend a Saturday watching us not ram a hollow crown. If you still want the audit, we will still take the fare. Truth is the product.