What happened next depends on which one of us you are talking too.
For my perspective, slightly mis-timing the drop along the trail led to a narrow, but still secure, flirtation with the slight cliff face, on the rise above the green.
Calling on all my love of Nascar racing and dodgem cars as a teenager, I corrected the oversteer and brought us back in line with the track.
Except the buggy was now light of one Wanganui Chronicle staff member.
Convinced we were about to turn over down the 1m drop, Munro had leapt from the vehicle and using his year's of experience in the British army, executed a near faultless 'para roll' down the slope, all while keeping the camera securely in a tantamount to 'firing position'.
I was so shocked by this scene straight out of the American Ninja television show that I nearly flipped over the buggy by striking the opposite embankment before again recorrecting my line, at which point I stopped on the hillside and stared in bewilderment at Munro, who in turn watched me from his kneeling position with equal bafflement.
Both were waiting for the other to explain what in the blue hell he was doing.
The only attendees sure of their reaction were the playing foursome on the said green, who by this point were splitting their sides with laughter.
So, yes, this incident of uncharacteristic gymnastics and Daytona 500 interaction on a golfing green was chewed over before we set out on our journey at Castlecliff.
After an incident free trip to the 9th hole and back, Munro and I found ourselves trying to pick a way through the rough and the trees to possibly avoid any distractions or incidents with the multitude of other finalists on the course. Not to mention our own safety from projectiles in the non-bullet proof confines of that horseless carriage.
We initially thought success was made until the final hole before the clubhouse, having maneuvered beside the fairway, when a shrill female voice reached us over the wind.
"Do you two play golf?" we were challenged, with Munro replying with candor that no, despite my striped shirt and his khaki outfit we were not regulars to the sport.
We were then told in no uncertain terms we should have stopped our buggy, which was well out of the line of fire, at least 750m back while said group was teeing off.
To emphasise the point, the lady stood glaring with her club perched in two hands like a cane as we circled well back and behind the group for the remainder of our jaunt.
It prompted a colourful discussion of just how long two media individuals hamstrung by deadlines must wait down narrow gorges and on hilly peaks until any spec on the horizon resembling a striped cardigan had disappeared.
Perhaps finally driving off the course at 8pm would have sufficed all protocols?
In researching another column I'm considering on sporting comebacks, I have studied one of golf's most polarising days - the stunning turnaround by the United States to defeated Europe in the 1999 Ryder Cup in Brookline, Massachusetts.
Entering the final day of games, the United States was four points behind and no team had ever made up that gap in the 72-year history of the Cup.
Yet a miracle occurred as the US rattled off six straight victories in singles games, to the point where the impossible would become a reality if Justin Leonard could halve his match with Spain's Jos Mara Olazbal.
Leonard had been out of it, four shots down, yet clawed his way back so by the 17th hole a fixated audience watched him attempt a mighty 40ft putt to possibly secure the draw and with it the cup.
The young Texan delivered, setting off a Sports Center moment as the overwhelmed Americans dashed on to the green to envelop Leonard in a brown-shirt bear-hug.
Just one problem - Olazbal was still waiting to make his own putt, from a much closer 22ft, to keep the match alive, and the Europeans would condemn the pitch invasion as "disgusting" and "wasn't in the spirit ... of the game of golf".
Those Americans were all champions and veterans of the sport in their own right, and even their show of emotions got caught out by the older worldly-ness and prioritising of etiquette which golfing still demands.
What chance for a couple of lads just trying to quietly drive their way home?
