In the previous episode of this Tale Of Three Guitars, I told you the story of my first band and our first, and only, epic gig. Click this link if you need to catch up. If, on the contrary, you belong to that crowd of 12 people who DID read it already, you may think that I will now finally tell how did that first date with the seedy bartender go and whether it turned out to be a beautiful love story or not.
Well, I won’t.
At least, not now. Because this story is about guitars and not boyfriends. All you need to know for the moment is that the bartender trip was real for about six months, marked an important turning point in my youth and then ended up crashing with a miserably hollow thud in a coffee shop behind the train station, over two cappuccinos and a borrowed copy of Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums.