The year was 1979.
I was a 13 year old boy staring at a Gibson Les Paul in pawn shop in Santa Ana California.
The guitar was a thing of beauty.
It was heaven on the wall.
Everything I ever wanted and more.
I told my dad about it — but he was too busy looking at a stereo.
My ask went unanswered.
The following weekend we returned to Main Street in Santa Ana — once again trolling pawn shops.
The Les Paul was still there.
Sweet!
At the pawn shop next door my dad agreed to buy me a small Fender amp.
I was ecstatic!
This time I pointed out the Gibson Les Paul and made sure he knew it was the guitar that I wanted.
One month to Christmas and I was sure it would appear under the tree.
The Les Paul was red.
Red like Christmas.
Red like a fire engine.
It was Rock n’ Roll.
Better than girls.
Seriously.
I was a huge KISS fan and this guitar was my ticket.
I wanted to be a rockstar just like Ace Frehley.
Call it a Rock n’ Roll fantasy.
I was hooked.
Christmas came and the Les Paul didn’t come.
We returned to the pawn shop and the guitar wasn’t there.
I was crushed.
Flash forward 39 years.
I’m in the market for a new guitar.
Why I never bought a red Les Paul?
I don’t know.
So I’m online and there’s a red Les Paul.
It’s not the same model.
That would cost upwards of $2,500 dollars.
But it’s red!
Something inside me stirs.
Boom, boom, boom.
I want that guitar.
Call it closure.
Call it what you want.
It just feels right.
I click.
I buy.
It’s mine!
3 days later she arrives in the mail.
Why are guitars are female?
Cause they’re sexy.
It’s a thing of beauty.
I’m 13 years old again!
It’s Rock n’ Roll.
And Rock n’ Roll doesn’t age.
It just gets better with time.
Long live Rock n’ Roll.
I’m going to go play my new guitar now.
