The Preparation (A sign of things to come?)

I find it always good practice to do a bit of guitar maintenance prior to hitting the road, so last night while watching one of the final episodes of Battlestar Galactica, I dutifully restrung my trusty Jazzmaster with some brand spankin' new Thomastik-Infeld flats after giving her a bit of a de-griming. There is something quite satisfying in a string change that I've never really figured out. Kind of like thinking that your car drives smoother after an oil change. Ah, life's illusions.

So, after the obligatory tuning and feeling quite ready to take on the surf world, I decide to take my Jazzmaster to the back room and get her safely into her protective case. WARNING: For the faint of heart, you may want to skip reading the rest of this post due to the utter vileness of its upcoming content. So, with the Jazzmaster strapped on, I walk it with hands full of: Guitar tuner, polish, rag, wire cutters, and string winder. Note to self: NEVER WALK A JAZZMASTER WITHOUT ONE HAND ACTING AS A SAFETY DEVICE. So, in what seemed like days, my lovely Jazzmaster jetisoned from its protective strap and plummeted to the hard tiled floor making a noise that was reminiscent of someone throwing themselves down a flight of stairs.

The damage: Two really nice deep gaping dings that heroically expose several inches of wood on the side of the previously attractive stringed instrument, and a nicely missing shard off the headstock. There are times when you are so pissed that you look for somewhere inexpensive to put your fist through, and then there are times when you simply need to sit down and let the hate subside. My reaction was the latter. Oh well, lesson learned. It seems like I'm learning a lot of 'lessons' lately. Well, at least my Jazzmaster is nicely relic'd now. On to Phoenix to meet up with The Surfside IV!