WARNING: THIS POST WILL ONLY BE OF INTEREST TO AND CAUSE HEART ACHE FOR GUITAR PLAYERS. EVERYONE ELSE MAY MOVE ALONG NOW.
So, I explained a couple posts ago that my guitar was stolen from my garage recently – or borrowed. I’m still hoping. Well, today I took my back up guitar (a blonde version of my stolen one) to the shop. It needed a new input jack and some setting up before I could take it on the road this week.
My usual guitar doctor wasn’t able to squeeze me in today (its’ Nashville. Every waiter and house painter has a freaking guitar) so I tried this new guy close by. The guitar didn’t need major work so what I cared about was fast, not good. Problem wasn’t sure he could fix my “geetar” and asked me to check back with him” after while” when his “buddy” got back from lunch. “Sure,” I said and scooted out the door to grab some lunch myself.
After consuming a #1 combo from Chick-fil-A I scooted back to the shop. “What’s the verdict?” I asked. “I’ve got some bad news about that geetar of yours, man,” he said motioning me behind his counter.
I stepped into the back room and saw my geetar laying there beheaded – the neck split clean in two pieces – the strings still holding on like in ribbon in the hair of a stiffened corpse.
He explained that when I left him last he’d leaned my guitar – sorry, my geetar – up against his desk and somehow bumped it moments later when turning to help a customer. It fell and split in two. In two! T-W-freaking O!
He thought I’d be ticked and started asking me not to sue him or make a scene. “I’ll make it right,” he said. “It’s just stuff,” I told him. What he didn’t know was that I just spoke last week at ikon about how we Christians aren’t supposed to sue people – especially since the stuff we sue over is only physical and temporary. Doh! Why’d I do that?
Yea, I taught that we’re supposed to choose to lose rather than cause loss to others – even if they deserve it for doing a bone head thing like leaning my only remaining child against a desk.
Seriously, I got hooked up with a pretty good Taylor, black, with a less incredible but doable pickup in it. (Can you say “snob”?) He loaned it to me, his personal guitar, for a week along with a coupe cables, some strings and his very own tuner. None of it feels like home, like my Yamaha’s do, but it’ll get the job done. And he’s kindly decided to have someone ELSE glue my guitar back together and paint it.
Oh, and he said the repair on the jack is on the house. Good. I’m all good. What’s done is done. No big deal. Moving on.
By the way, anybody know a secluded place where a guy could, oh, I don’t know, take something of his – like maybe a guitar for example and, you know, maybe put it’s headstock in a vice and chew it’s body in half with a chain-saw without being noticed? Some place like that? I mean, I’m just, uh…I’m just asking…if you know that kind of place.