Recently, some type of Divine Presence has seen fit to award me with guitars that, quite frankly, I don’t deserve. This particular guitar had me so enthralled, I began to feel like less of a man when I wasn’t playing it. My fingers could not stop running up and down the fretboard, my right hand just felt so at home on the bridge, carrying it felt like I was carrying my own child. It’s an Ibanez SCA-220 (I think); it says S-Classic on the headstock. It is up there in the “best guitars I’ve ever played department”.
But then, a short time later, I felt as if I had drawn Excalibur from Stone per the next picture…