I stood on the precipice of the third hole on the South Course at Torrey Pines. To my left, the sandstone cliffs of La Jolla plunged violently into the Pacific. Overhead, the hang gliders hovered like silent, colorful vultures waiting for a bogey.

The marine layer had rolled in, thick and damp, coating the Kikuyu grass in a fine, slick mist. I held a Churchill in my teeth, excuse me, a stogie—a beacon of warmth in the cool coastal gray. But the time had come to address the ball.

I looked at the cart. The cup holder was a puddle. The seat? A dew-soaked sponge. To lay a fine cigar on the wet ground is not merely a mistake; it is a desecration.

Enter the Stogee Sleeve.

Fashioned from soft, indomitable silicone, it feels as modern as the composite in my driver yet as reliable as the tides. With a satisfying clack, the magnetic spine seized the metal strut of the golf cart.

There it hung. My cigar, suspended in mid-air, safe from the damp, the dirt, and the crushing wheels of progress. I crushed my drive down the fairway, and when I returned, my smoke was waiting—dry, lit, and perfect.

The only hazard that day… was the rough.