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Picture this: a guy, way past sixty, hair wild, sunglasses on, hat backwards, perched on an electric bike, ready to… well, he calls it “rip it.” He’s staring out at the ocean, not breaking his gaze, even when he’s talking. Sounds like a character from a movie, right? But this is Adam Schriber, and he’s the real damn deal in professional golf. Forget your stuffy country club pros. Schriber’s the dude who crisscrosses the country in an RV, camping out at PGA Tour stops, living life on his own damn terms. And he’s got the results to prove it, including coaching a U.S. Open champ.
When you think of golf instructors, you probably picture pressed slacks and a perfectly coiffed head of hair. Schriber? Not so much. He’s got this surfer-bro vibe, a softie underneath a rough exterior, according to his own son. J.J. Spaun, the guy who snagged the U.S. Open trophy, calls him the ultimate golf geek. And you know what? Everyone on tour seems to dig the guy. He’s not your typical golf snob. He’s different. Looks different. Acts different. And that’s exactly why he’s so damn good at what he does.
Right now, he’s parked his massive Airstream RV, the “Midnight Flamingo,” near St. Augustine, Florida. It’s Players Championship week. He’s got a tournament to get to, but first, he’s out on Vilano Beach, getting his daily dose of that ocean air. He’s an adrenaline junkie, collecting broken bones and torn tendons like souvenirs. It’s just the price of admission for living life at full throttle.
Funny thing is, Schriber never planned on being a golf coach. He was a sports kid, a surfer kid in South Florida. Golf? That came later, around age 12, through a YMCA program. His mom, bless her heart, even sewed him a makeshift golf bag because they couldn’t afford one. He went on to win tournaments with that thing. He even got scholarships for academics and sports, acing his SATs after a wild night out. He figured golf management was a decent fallback if the pro dreams didn’t pan out.
He bounced around the mini-tours, even Monday-qualified for some PGA Tour events. But those pro aspirations took a nosedive when he shattered his ankle playing pickup basketball in his late twenties. That’s when he pivoted. Teaching. He landed a gig with David Leadbetter back in ’89. But the real game-changer? A chance meeting with some scientists talking about force and friction. Suddenly, he was hooked on biomechanics. He became a pioneer, turning what’s now a cornerstone of golf instruction into his own thing.
Schriber’s whole deal is about feel, not just thinking. He calls his drills “mouse traps.” They’re these subtle little nudges that guide players into the right positions without them even realizing it. Spaun, who grew up skateboarding, uses this idea of a “back-side flip” to get his feet moving just right during his swing. It’s about creating that feeling, that sensation, that makes the swing work.
“Change is feel, right?” Schriber says, mixing surfer lingo with this deadpan delivery. He’s all about using the science we have now – ground forces, launch monitor data – to test things out. He’ll have you throw a medicine ball, swing something heavy, and then he’ll look at your ground forces. Does it produce what we’re looking for? If it does, he’s like, “Alright, dude. Your turn. Figure out what that feels like.” It’s a brilliant way to cut through the noise and get to the core of what makes a swing effective.
These days, Schriber is the director of instruction at LochenHeath Golf Club up in Michigan. He’s also a longtime GOLF Top 100 Teacher. He’s coached winners for decades. We’re talking Brandel Chamblee way back in the late ‘90s, and now guys like Spaun and Korn Ferry Tour winners Sam Ryder and Dylan Wu. He even gets credit for turning Anthony Kim from a hot prospect into a PGA Tour and now LIV Golf star. That’s a hell of a track record.
But it’s not just about the wins. Schriber talks a lot about making it all mean something. Not just in golf, but in life. Every Christmas, he’s out there organizing a “Tips for Toys” event, getting teachers to donate lessons for charity. And get this: J.J. Spaun’s 2025 U.S. Open win? Not Schriber’s favorite moment last year. Nope. That honor goes to the high school girls’ golf team he helped start. They took third at state. He was just a volunteer assistant. That tells you everything you need to know about the guy. He genuinely loves helping people succeed. He’s all in, mentally and emotionally, for your game.
So, how did the RV thing start? It all goes back to 2008. The Schribers’ black lab, Birdie, found a scrawny chocolate Lab wandering around. No owner showed up, so they named him Yoda and took him in. Fast forward to 2017. Schriber’s youngest son, Sam, graduates high school. Dad’s an empty nester. The tour season is coming up. He’s not about to leave an old dog in a kennel. So, what’s the most logical thing to do? Sell the house, buy a camper, and hit the road with Yoda.
Two things happened on those highways. Yoda became a minor celebrity on tour. And Schriber realized he absolutely loved this life. He decked out his camper with all his favorite toys: kayaks, surfboards, paddleboards, mountain bikes, e-bikes. He even got a trailer so Yoda could join him on beach trips and paddleboard adventures. When Yoda passed in 2024, he tried the whole Airbnb thing. Nah. Wasn’t for him. So, in January, he and Sam, who’s now 27 and traveling and working with him, picked up their fourth RV. They got it in a snowstorm in Cleveland. First night back on the road? Best sleep he’d had in months.
They’ve put on over 7,000 miles since then. Palm Springs, San Diego, Phoenix, Pebble Beach, L.A. All soundtracked by the Grateful Dead and Zach Bryan. Now they’re parked in an RV spot south of TPC Sawgrass. The grill’s still warm, traces of bacon in the air. Folding chairs are out, workout gear is stashed away. Surfboards didn’t make this trip, but the e-bike? Oh yeah, that’s here. The tour security guys are used to him now. They see him coming on his e-bike and they’re like, “Here comes the wacky coach.”
His kids worry. He almost bought a bike that goes 70 mph. The current one hits 45. Three years ago, he flipped it and broke his pelvis. Again. The first time was snowboarding with Anthony Kim. He couldn’t walk for six months. “He has glass bones and paper skin,” Sam jokes. “Always fighting himself.”
This lifestyle isn’t always glamorous. Think 2 a.m. flat tires, breakdowns, endless packing and unpacking. It’s hard. There was this one moment during a crucial part of Spaun’s 2025 season. Schriber’s RV snapped an axle driving from Orlando to Jacksonville for the Players. He spent the week sleeping on an air mattress in a rented cargo van. A few days later, Spaun’s complaining about bad luck.
Schriber saw it differently. He knew Spaun had dealt with diabetes, almost quit the game. Schriber himself had a scare in 2008, nearly lost his vision. And because his own dad died young, Schriber’s always thinking about his own time. “What if it turns out,” he told Spaun, “that you and I are the luckiest people in the world?”
Something clicked. Spaun lost that Players to Rory McIlroy in a playoff, but banked $2.7 million. Three months later, he’s holding the U.S. Open trophy. In the rain, as Spaun celebrated, Schriber hugged Spaun’s short-game coach. A video clip went viral. “You did this,” the coach told Schriber. “Nobody works harder than you.” Schriber’s reply? “We all did this.”
Brandel Chamblee, a former student, saw it differently. “You’re talking about a guy that has been giving his heart and soul to the game and to his players for 35, 40 years,” Chamblee says. “And he finally had a horse that won the Kentucky Derby.”
Back on the beach, Schriber’s weaving his e-bike through the morning crowd. It feels good to get it out again. It was recently repaired after he accidentally set it on fire trying to fix damage from a downpour on the West Coast. Biking, surfing – he’s not stopping.
“I can’t watch from the sidelines,” he insists. He’s always craved excitement, even if the waves aren’t as gnarly as they used to be. He loves that Sam is with him now. They’re a team, rolling down the highway, laughing off the little inconveniences, chasing twilight tee times and grilling steaks late into the night. What dad wouldn’t want that?
“I’m in golf, and I probably shouldn’t be,” Schriber admits. “I’m not from that side of the tracks. But there are a lot of weird combinations that have got me here. I just want it to mean as much as possible.” His hair whips in the wind as he cruises the shore. The beach, the water, that sunrise – it’s a hell of a view. Lost in the moment, he cranks the throttle and disappears down the coast. Lucky? Sure. Alive? You bet. Because Adam Schriber has figured out what that feels like. For a look at how coaches like Schriber approach the game, you can explore resources like the PGA Coach directory to find certified professionals.