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CAMELEYE

By CAMELEYE
in Gibson Acoustic

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CAMELEYE

CAMELEYE

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Ok, so I sold off a bunch and traded off a few and was gonna just set back and happily strum away with the couple or three left when to my surprise I found myself transported as if by the Magic Gas Fairy to a local guitar dealer. When the cloud of smoke dissipated I looked down and right there in my hands was a work of art, a figure of such breathtaking beauty that I had no choice ... I began to strum. Then the fingerpicks came out and the ghost of Mr. Rev. Gary Davis took possession and for a brief moment as time itself stood still I became a pale imitation of a BluesMan. Hours (or maybe it was minutes) later I looked up at the music store goddess behind the counter and croaked (Gary hadn't completely left yet) "How, how much"? My heart was beating a four-to-the-floor tattoo and my throat was dry as she consulted her crystal ball and came up with a figure I thought was beyond fair, a gift almost. Yes! I thought to myself, yes, I can do this! I hastily fumbled for my wallet. My wallet! Where the #*!+? is my wallet? Then it hit me like a cold snowball on the back of the neck, my Guitar Fund, a Fund choking with filthy, useless dollars, was back home in my dresser drawer. As I reluctantly and with difficulty handed her the guitar I vowed (out loud I think) I'll Be Back! I'll be Back!

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Red 333

Red 333

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Ok, so I sold off a bunch and traded off a few and was gonna just set back and happily strum away with the couple or three left when to my surprise I found myself transported as if by the Magic Gas Fairy to a local guitar dealer. When the cloud of smoke dissipated I looked down and right there in my hands was a work of art, a figure of such breathtaking beauty that I had no choice ... I began to strum. Then the fingerpicks came out and the ghost of Mr. Rev. Gary Davis took possession and for a brief moment as time itself stood still I became a pale imitation of a BluesMan. Hours (or maybe it was minutes) later I looked up at the music store goddess behind the counter and croaked (Gary hadn't completely left yet) "How, how much"? My heart was beating a four-to-the-floor tattoo and my throat was dry as she consulted her crystal ball and came up with a figure thought was beyond fair, a gift almost. Yes! I thought to myself, yes, I can do this! I hastily fumbled for my wallet. My wallet! Where the #*!+? is my wallet? Then it hit me like a cold snowball on the back of the neck, my Guitar Fund, a Fund choking with filthy, useless dollars, was back home in my dresser drawer. As I reluctantly and with difficulty handed her the guitar I vowed (out loud I think) I'll Be Back! I'll be Back!

 

Is there a happy ending to your tale, or are you just being a guitar-tease?

 

Red 333

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Gilliangirl

Gilliangirl

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Ok, so I sold off a bunch and traded off a few and was gonna just set back and happily strum away with the couple or three left when to my surprise I found myself transported as if by the Magic Gas Fairy to a local guitar dealer. When the cloud of smoke dissipated I looked down and right there in my hands was a work of art, a figure of such breathtaking beauty that I had no choice ... I began to strum. Then the fingerpicks came out and the ghost of Mr. Rev. Gary Davis took possession and for a brief moment as time itself stood still I became a pale imitation of a BluesMan. Hours (or maybe it was minutes) later I looked up at the music store goddess behind the counter and croaked (Gary hadn't completely left yet) "How, how much"? My heart was beating a four-to-the-floor tattoo and my throat was dry as she consulted her crystal ball and came up with a figure thought was beyond fair, a gift almost. Yes! I thought to myself, yes, I can do this! I hastily fumbled for my wallet. My wallet! Where the #*!+? is my wallet? Then it hit me like a cold snowball on the back of the neck, my Guitar Fund, a Fund choking with filthy, useless dollars, was back home in my dresser drawer. As I reluctantly and with difficulty handed her the guitar I vowed (out loud I think) I'll Be Back! I'll be Back!

This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, and I sure hope it has a happy ending! Filthy useless dollars.... I'm still laughing over that one [biggrin]

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Spot

Spot

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Ok, so I sold off a bunch and traded off a few and was gonna just set back and happily strum away with the couple or three left when to my surprise I found myself transported as if by the Magic Gas Fairy to a local guitar dealer. When the cloud of smoke dissipated I looked down and right there in my hands was a work of art, a figure of such breathtaking beauty that I had no choice ... I began to strum. Then the fingerpicks came out and the ghost of Mr. Rev. Gary Davis took possession and for a brief moment as time itself stood still I became a pale imitation of a BluesMan. Hours (or maybe it was minutes) later I looked up at the music store goddess behind the counter and croaked (Gary hadn't completely left yet) "How, how much"? My heart was beating a four-to-the-floor tattoo and my throat was dry as she consulted her crystal ball and came up with a figure thought was beyond fair, a gift almost. Yes! I thought to myself, yes, I can do this! I hastily fumbled for my wallet. My wallet! Where the #*!+? is my wallet? Then it hit me like a cold snowball on the back of the neck, my Guitar Fund, a Fund choking with filthy, useless dollars, was back home in my dresser drawer. As I reluctantly and with difficulty handed her the guitar I vowed (out loud I think) I'll Be Back! I'll be Back!

 

 

Photos please!!!!

 

=P~

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CAMELEYE

CAMELEYE

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Thanks, all, for the kind and enabling words above. Unfortunately circumstances beyond my control will and are preventing me from continuing down this rosy path to guitar nirvana until Saturday. Oh, and the Fund isn't in my dresser anymore. Ce

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retrorod

retrorod

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Thanks, all, for the kind and enabling words above. Unfortunately circumstances beyond my control will and are preventing me from continuing down this rosy path to guitar nirvana until Saturday. Oh, and the Fund isn't in my dresser anymore. Ce

Great story and writing Cameleye [thumbup] Its Saturday and I,m looking forward to another chapter and some illustrations.... :lol:

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CAMELEYE

CAMELEYE

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A dismal gray cloud occluded the early morning sun. Not a good sign I thought as I fumbled around my darkened bedroom trying desperately to remember where I had re-stashed my Guitar Fund after alluding right here in public to its original hiding place. (Never re-stash your Fund after a night of serious partying. I made a mental note.) Ten agonizing minutes later I yanked open the car door. Now, let's see what this puppy can do I said, as I put the pedal to the metal of my tiny but sleek charcoal Prius. Roaring out of the driveway, narrowly missing the neighbor's slow moving cat (some day, I promised myself) I barreled down the expressway to my destination, a charming portal to guitar nirvana located about 20 miles too far from my home. A bell tinkled as I entered, startling me as I tried to glance oh so casually toward the locked no doubt bullet proof glass display case housing the object of my desire, a not so rare example of what the boys at Bozeman can do on a day other than Monday or Friday.

After a brief pit stop in the store's facility to get a grip and collect my scattered wits, I wandered out and pretended to notice the display. "Oh! Is that a J-200?" I asked slyly, betraying as little emotion as possible (under the circumstances). The propriatress wasn't fooled for a second as she responded, "Yep, same one you played Wednesday." Round one to management. What happened next is just a blur. Somehow the guitar ended up in my sweaty but eager hands and I lost contact with the real world for the space of I don't know how long. My fain attempt at nonchalance scattered to the winds, blown away by a heavy burst of Gas, I attempted to barter. "Nope, same price as before," was all I got for my piteously meek attempt at a counter offer. Round two to the Man (Woman, that is). I was getting nowhere fast so in a panic I pulled out all the tricks in my vast book of How to Make Good Guitar Deals and said as forcefully as I could, "I'll take it!"

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DanvillRob

DanvillRob

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Man.... this is very similar to a story I had last Friday. (although my Guitar fund is still safely stashed away in my closet).

 

I had to go to San Leandro to film a TV spot, (show called "Harmonics".... if you see it on YouTube, check it out).

 

The TV show was about a dance promoter in the Bay Area back in the 60's. I met our old Manager, our old Keyboard Player and our old Lead Guitar there. After, we all went out for lunch, and to talk about old times.

 

After lunch, and before I headed home, I went into a place called Music Unlimited. It's a music store that's been around for 60 years. I bought a Fender Echo Chamber, (the old one with a tape in it), back about 1964-1965, and it's where my wife bought me the Dove back in 1980.

 

Some of you know I'm seriously looking for a Hummingbird Koa, so I waltzed in and asked if they had such a creature. The owner, Doug Lee, said, "You're not too specific, are you?". I said a 'Bird was my first love. I explained that I used to work at a place called "Steven's Music" in Fremont back in the early 60's. Doug remembered it. I said we got in a 'Bird and used to play it when the boss was away. I drooled over it, and ALWAYS wanted one. (My wife knew I wanted a Gibson bird guitar, that's why she bought me the Dove!). Anyway, he remembered my old band, and knew dozens of people I knew. He went in the back and brought out a brand new 'Bird. Before he opened up the case, I told him I wasn't too hot on the red on most of the 'Birds. He opened the case, and it was the Honey colored burst. It was.......beautiful..... to say the least! it was a 2008, and has been in the store since then.

 

So.... He handed me the guitar, I took out the pick I carry in my money clip, the one with the Union Jack on it....and played about 6-8 tunes...... the guitar sounded so damn sweet..... felt like a dream...... if I had my stash with me, I just might have walked out the store with it. I told Doug, I wasn't an impulse buyer, he lowered the price to $2900. I have $3200 sitting in the closet......hummmmm......

 

Anyway, I told Doug, I'd think about it. I walked out, got in my car and headed home. About 30 minutes later I realized I'd left the store without my coat. I called Doug back and I'm sure he thought I was calling to say I'd thought about it and I was coming back to pick it up....but I just asked if my black leather coat was still hanging on the rack there.

 

He said yes, and I told him I'd be back to pick it up in about 30 minutes.

 

I have to say....I'm STILL tempted....but I have faith I'll find a 'Bird Koa for sale in the next few months...... unless I change my mind!

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Yggdrasil

Yggdrasil

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A dismal gray cloud occluded the early morning sun. Not a good sign I thought as I fumbled around my darkened bedroom trying desperately to remember where I had re-stashed my Guitar Fund after alluding right here in public to its original hiding place. (Never re-stash your Fund after a night of serious partying. I made a mental note.) Ten agonizing minutes later I yanked open the car door. Now, let's see what this puppy can do I said, as I put the pedal to the metal of my tiny but sleek charcoal Prius. Roaring out of the driveway, narrowly missing the neighbor's slow moving cat (some day, I promised myself) I barreled down the expressway to my destination, a charming portal to guitar nirvana located about 20 miles too far from my home. A bell tinkled as I entered, startling me as I tried to glance oh so casually toward the locked no doubt bullet proof glass display case housing the object of my desire, a not so rare example of what the boys at Bozeman can do on a day other than Monday or Friday.

After a brief pit stop in the store's facility to get a grip and collect my scattered wits, I wandered out and pretended to notice the display. "Oh! Is that a J-200?" I asked slyly, betraying as little emotion as possible (under the circumstances). The proprietress wasn't fooled for a second as she responded, "Yep, same one you played Wednesday." Round one to management. What happened next is just a blur. Somehow the guitar ended up in my sweaty but eager hands and I lost contact with the real world for the space of I don't know how long. My fain attempt at nonchalance scattered to the winds, blown away by a heavy burst of Gas, I attempted to barter. "Nope, same price as before," was all I got for my piteously meek attempt at a counter offer. Round two to the Man (Woman, that is). I was getting nowhere fast so in a panic I pulled out all the tricks in my vast book of How to Make Good Guitar Deals and said as forcefully as I could, "I'll take it!"

 

I have heard Ce play - indeed he plays as well as he writes - and perhaps better than he negotiates... I was unaware until now, though,of his Sterling-Moss-like abilities behind the wheel of his inimitable Prius!

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