Letting Go of Good Guitars

Please ignore my sloppy handling of this beautiful instrument.

I had a fantastic Gibson Les Paul once, a long time ago. I bought it off eBay in 2004, and I held onto it for nearly a decade, all through college and into my working life.

But after a while, it became obvious that my days of blasting a Marshall half-stack into a crowd of sweaty punks were over. I was spending more time commuting to a job I hated than I was playing guitar, and the Les Paul was gathering dust in my closet.

So I sold it, along with my Fender 212 DeVille amplifier. I still had my Telecaster, and a small tube amp. I figured that would suffice.

But as I’m spending more time at home, and more time practicing, I’m really missing the Les Paul. I keep looking for similar guitars on Reverb — mine was a 1990 Standard — and kicking myself for ever letting it go.

I remember a conversation with my uncle Tommy, who used to collect motorcycles (he’s also no slouch with a guitar). Tommy had a small Honda that he was repairing, and he said he got more offers for that bike than any other in his collection. Guys his age had learned to ride on a bike just like his, and they wanted a chance to feel the same way the did when they were sixteen.

I feel a little like that with the Les Paul. I miss the weight, the warmth, the growl that guitar could deliver. And it looked so damn cool.

But more than anything, I miss being the player I was when I owned it.

As much as I hate to admit it, I see myself in those old guys who wanted to buy Tommy’s Honda. Yes, I want to get back to a time when I could play faster and with more creativity and showmanship. And I keep looking at guitars for sale, thinking if I get the guitar back I’ll get some of that swagger along with it.

The kicker is that I still can be that player. I just have to stop lusting after other guitars, pick up my Tele, and play.