Time to Bye: Epiphone Les Paul Standard
The guilt is overwhelming...
I've never really bonded with this, or any, Les Paul. I want to love them, but they're just not my bag. Back when I picked this one up for a steal though, my daughter named it.
It's like animals - don't let the kids give them a name unless you're going to keep them. And for a long time I stuck to this premise, until I came across a Paisley Jazzmaster that gave me the fizzy feeling James May so often invokes.
I needed to get rid of some guitars, and this one was near top of the list. Sorry Lassie, it's time to go out behind the shed and turn you into glue.
I may have just confused 3 different animals and movies...
At any rate, I posted locally and within two days I received a number of inquiries, the most promising of which was a gentleman from north of me who was willing to drive down (about an hour) to check it out "as soon as possible", but was also very clear on his desire to "do this at your (my) convenience."
I check "Gord" out on Facebook (he had inadvertently provided more than enough info to identify him), and concluded that he was harmless and extremely likely to purchase. I invited him to my house that evening around 8. He accepted, and noted a few minutes later that he would probably be interested in the Peavey Bandit I had also listed.
Outstanding.
Gord showed up right on time and was an affable fellow. I took him down to the guitar area where I had already turned on the amp and had the guitar plugged in. He asked a few simple questions (why are you selling... yada yada) and I demonstrated the guitar and the amp. He soon admitted that he wasn't much of a player himself, but was committed to learning and didn't own an electric guitar of his own. I offered the guitar and stool to him and he sat down, apologized preemptively, and proceeded to strum what I think was supposed to be a D.
Oh dear.
My mind, feeble as it is, raced to thoughts of immediate guilt
Was I really sending Honey Chocolate Brownie to live with a person who couldn't enjoy her properly? Would he give up after a few months and put HCB under a bed somewhere, forgotten and alone? I'm not dramatic... you're dramatic...
Momentarily escaping my guilt, we chatted on why Peavey Red Stripes had a cult following, the advantages of buying used, Mark Knopfler, yada yada yada. After ten minutes he took our a wad of cash, noted that he wasn't going to bother haggling, and counted out the correct amount dutifully.
And just like that, Honey Chocolate Brownie strolled out the door, along with an amp.
Helps that I nearly doubled my money on the sale.
:-)
I've never really bonded with this, or any, Les Paul. I want to love them, but they're just not my bag. Back when I picked this one up for a steal though, my daughter named it.
It's like animals - don't let the kids give them a name unless you're going to keep them. And for a long time I stuck to this premise, until I came across a Paisley Jazzmaster that gave me the fizzy feeling James May so often invokes.
I needed to get rid of some guitars, and this one was near top of the list. Sorry Lassie, it's time to go out behind the shed and turn you into glue.
I may have just confused 3 different animals and movies...
At any rate, I posted locally and within two days I received a number of inquiries, the most promising of which was a gentleman from north of me who was willing to drive down (about an hour) to check it out "as soon as possible", but was also very clear on his desire to "do this at your (my) convenience."
I check "Gord" out on Facebook (he had inadvertently provided more than enough info to identify him), and concluded that he was harmless and extremely likely to purchase. I invited him to my house that evening around 8. He accepted, and noted a few minutes later that he would probably be interested in the Peavey Bandit I had also listed.
Outstanding.
Gord showed up right on time and was an affable fellow. I took him down to the guitar area where I had already turned on the amp and had the guitar plugged in. He asked a few simple questions (why are you selling... yada yada) and I demonstrated the guitar and the amp. He soon admitted that he wasn't much of a player himself, but was committed to learning and didn't own an electric guitar of his own. I offered the guitar and stool to him and he sat down, apologized preemptively, and proceeded to strum what I think was supposed to be a D.
Oh dear.
My mind, feeble as it is, raced to thoughts of immediate guilt
Was I really sending Honey Chocolate Brownie to live with a person who couldn't enjoy her properly? Would he give up after a few months and put HCB under a bed somewhere, forgotten and alone? I'm not dramatic... you're dramatic...
Momentarily escaping my guilt, we chatted on why Peavey Red Stripes had a cult following, the advantages of buying used, Mark Knopfler, yada yada yada. After ten minutes he took our a wad of cash, noted that he wasn't going to bother haggling, and counted out the correct amount dutifully.
And just like that, Honey Chocolate Brownie strolled out the door, along with an amp.
Helps that I nearly doubled my money on the sale.
:-)
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