I have this CAG, (cheap assed guitar) i bought years back.
Chinese built Ventrua, composites back, side and top. What we called growing up, a plywood guitar. They sounded like they were made of plywood too. Laminated guitars have come a long way.
I did not start learning to play until i got my first pair of hearing aids. I might have went a wee bit overboard on acoustic guitars, but my wife knows that very seldom now do i bring a new one home. So she really don’t care how many of these beautiful darlings i run my hands over lovingly. I try that with another woman, well things would not be so calm and peaceful. Something about mixing hillbilly Irish and American Indian together!
If you go dragging your good guitars outside, sitting picking when the weather is nice, and you have animals, they going to take some falls. Has a horse bite the tailstock on one one time. Kicked one over, had to put a whole new set of adjusters on it.
Thats how i come to have the CAG. Beater guitar.
Some where along the line, i decided that i had too many guitars. I gave the CAG to a teenager, who had a shitty lot in life, i was trying to help him. Gave it to him. He decided he was a bad boy on the street, and is in Texas State prison for armed robbery. Told my wife i hope his family keeps him well supplied with vaseline in there, cause he ain’t near as bad as he thinks he is.
CAG came back to me.
Later, wife has a nephew, got more musical talent than i ever will, but seems to be a lost wandering soul, never having found his place in life. Found out he did not have a guitar any more, told him if he would come by, i would give it to him. Next thing i know, he has busted with his girlfriend, who he had asked if i would hitch them, and moved to San Angelo.
I did not know the girl, but i been to San Angelo, don’t see why anyone would move there on purpose.
I feel, that this is my CAG, there are many like, but this one is mine. My CAG and i are one.
If i try to give it to anyone else, they may have a damn heart attack and die, either that or move to California.
SO i just oil her up now and then, tighten the nuts and screws on the adjusters, put a new set of strings here and there.
It will probably be the guitar i will be playing and singing, ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ on, as i watch the sheep murder each other over scraps of food. That way, if i have to drop it sudden like, to grab that twelve gauge, will not put another dent into one of my good guitars.
The twelve gauge, is the bass section, .45 is the drum section. And another one bites the dust!
Think i will sing Dixie now!
John C Carleton