T
thedude400
New member
The first guitar I ever got was bought at this shoddy little pawn shop named Know Nose that was in business in my hometown for about 2 weeks. It was a fender acoustic guitar and I got it for 60 bucks and it was no Martin but it still sounded like a dream. One day I handed it to my buddy to hold cause the pizza guy was outside, my buddy not being a guitar player didn't understand the importance of being super careful with a man's favorite and only guitar. He didn't keep a good grip on it and as I walked away I heard it crash onto the floor. There was a little hole on the bottom back but surprisingly enough it didn't really affect the sound of the quitar, but then again I was only 12. Even though I loved the sound of that thing I decided to get rid of it a year or so down the road for somethin new. About another year or two passed and my best buddy calls me up one day and tells me he got this really cool guitar from the back room of the local shop. He pulls it out of the case and it said Fender on the headpice. I thought it looked familiar but I didn't think there was any way it was my old one. I grabbed it and flipped around and right there on the bottom was that same hole! No one even bothered to repair it! I played a few notes and it sounded great. Just as I remembered. Goes to show that the things you love from the beginning, find a way back to you somehow, someway. My buddy still owns the guitar and loves it and every time he brings it by, I sit down with it and let it sing.