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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)
I have 3 guitars that I likely won’t part with. Two belonged to my father and the mystery MIJ I recently posted belonged to a freind of mine who passed away suddenly after being in remission from a long cancer battle.

So what’s your sentimental instrument story?

Does not need to be sentimental as in a personal connection...could be a story of a lost and recovered item or a unique story to tell.

Let’s see em....let’s make this “No Club” people...all makes welcome:)
 

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I feel like I'm making a sentimental guitar - which in turn gives it a special value to me. I want my son to have my Monty. I know it'll mean a lot to him, and I'm thankful that h'll be able to play it too - not just sit it in a corner.

I also hope to haunt it, so I can fuck with him from beyond.
 

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I still have my first electric & acoustic guitars, as well as my first bass. I guess you can call it sentimental value since I haven't kept much gear for very long in comparison. I'd like to think that a part of me lives in this gear...not just the sweat & dead skin cells.
 

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I still have my first electric. For about ten years, it was my only electric. I forgot how long it took me to save up my paper route money to get it, but it was long enough. The frets have been leveled twice over the years (30+). The luthier who did the last leveling job 10 years ago told me it will need a refret next time. Sure enough, no one in town would do a fret dress on it now. There is very little fret left. It is not a Gibson, but the neck is bound and it is a thru-neck guitar. I still have not decided if, when or who would I send it to for a refret.

I suppose it is a sentimental piece. Not only it gave me a start on electric guitar playing, it was always there, whether I was happy or sad. These days, they would call it an emotional support whatever.
 

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I have my first electric which saw me through almost all my guitar lessons, learning songs on my own at home, and general "I play guitar" moments. I sold my first acoustic to cover rent a few years ago IIRC (nothing fancy).

My other "sentimental guitar" is my AJC singlecut, because I spec'd it out but didn't keep it the first time. After blowing thousands of dollars on guitars that weren't it, it came up for sale and I worked out a deal to buy it back. I retired that from gigging when I realized that I actually don't want it getting heavily damaged on the road.
 

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I bought a real nice partscaster here on the forum about 6 years ago and promised it to my grand daughter later on so this one is a keeper for sure. I play with it as much as possible so that she remembers me doing so.
 

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I have a '64 Epi Coronet that a cousin of mine gave me over 40 years ago. He received it as a present when he was much younger, but eventually went in an acoustic direction before his untimely death in his early 40's from a sudden heart attack. We were pretty close, and he was a damn fine player. His son is now grown, and apparently also plays guitar. I offered it to him, and he expressed interest, but has not come by to get it.
 

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I'd say all of my guitars have some sentimentality attached to them to some degree. I have my first, 2nd and 4th guitars still.

I'd even go so far as to say that one of the reasons I have the guitars I do is because of sentimental reasons.
 

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I still have my first acoustic, a Fender F25 from the 70's. I have a Gretsch 6120 made the same year I was born. It popped up on Kijiji two weeks before my 50th birthday. That felt like the guitar gods had smiled on me, so that one is sentimental.
 

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My first guitar was a piece of crap Suzuki 3/4 folk size acoustic with a flat fingerboard, knuckle-busting action, and little in the way of tone. I hated it, and ditched it a couple of years later when I got a decent Giannini dreadnought. I forget what happened to the Suzuki, whether I left it somewhere, gave it away, or what. I simply didn't care at the time. I was young, rash, and stupid.

But here's the rub. It had been my oldest sister's guitar. She had taught herself a lot of '60s classic folk songs but gave it up, though she might have wanted to keep it. Regardless, I had been responsible for it when it disappeared. In time I felt bad about losing it, but it could not be undone. I don't even have a picture of her with it. My sister had made a very nice gigbag for it too, which zipper opened from the butt end...she was a master with needle and thread, and a great many other things. She did forgive me, she always did.

Trouble is, my sister died of cancer about 15 years ago, and I would dearly love to have the guitar she allowed me to take and that eventually led to my earning a living with guitar. It represents her, me, hurt, sentiment, my guilt, her forgiveness, and ultimately the love we had for each other.
 

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My Dad loved music although he could not sing or play. He bought me a little plastic guitar when I was a kid, hoping to entice me to want to play. He died when I was only eighteen and I never started playing until I was in my forties. I think the memories of what he did are worth way more than having that guitar but it would still be nice to have.

I have no other guitars that mean anything to me except I like how they play and sound.
 
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I did not know how to put it. No grin, no tears in my case. Only waves and happy ending turmoil.

I got nearby thirty guitars so far, in the last ten years for most of them, and and still own half of them. Each one marked a milestone in my quest for different fingerstyle repertoires of the last ten years (classical pieces, pop, delta and country blues, jazzy themes and so on), so that I really loved each of these along the road. Was it kind of nomad love ?

But one is particularly important to me. I was to move far from Quebec City (where I had been living for some thirty years) for a job posting that could last for many many years. I was fortunately at home on the day of my fiftieth anniversary and suddenly told my wife : I have been dreaming of it for many years, this is the very day ! OK It was not exactly that since we were talking in French...

So I went to the oldest and reknowned music store and said to the salesman who seemed to be a good guitar player : I used to play an entry level guitar for the last ten years, and on my fiftieth birthday, I want a good guitar. In my mind, money was (almost !) no object and I never thought the ceiling was already falling on my head : the prices I could read on the tickets just trew me to the floor ! But I was there...

I came back home, hands in pockets ! My wife saw the mixed feelings on my face. I had good and bad news. I had found what I thought I wanted, but could not pay for it. In fact, I had quite the money, but I had cautiously lowered the ceiling on my credit card a few months before since it had then been cloned ! So I could only pay an account and settle the thing the next day.

I finally got my first solid wood acoustic, a brand new Taylor 510, on my "fiftieth years plus one day": I never regretted this choice : It is probably my best guitar and it reminds me of a turn in my personal, musical and professional life.
 

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I did not know how to put it. No grin, no tears in my case. Only waves and happy ending turmoil.

I got nearby thirty guitars so far, in the last ten years for most of them, and and still own half of them. Each one marked a milestone in my quest for different fingerstyle repertoires of the last ten years (classical pieces, pop, delta and country blues, jazzy themes and so on), so that I really loved each of these along the road. Was it kind of nomad love ?

But one is particularly important to me. I was to move far from Quebec City (where I had been living for some thirty years) for a job posting that could last for many many years. I was fortunately at home on the day of my fiftieth anniversary and suddenly told my wife : I have been dreaming of it for many years, this is the very day ! OK It was not exactly that since we were talking in French...

So I went to the oldest and reknowned music store and said to the salesman who seemed to be a good guitar player : I used to play an entry level guitar for the last ten years, and on my fiftieth birthday, I want a good guitar. In my mind, money was (almost !) no object and I never thought the ceiling was already falling on my head : the prices I could read on the tickets just trew me to the floor ! But I was there...

I came back home, hands in pockets ! My wife saw the mixed feelings on my face. I had good and bad news. I had found what I thought I wanted, but could not pay for it. In fact, I had quite the money, but I had cautiously lowered the ceiling on my credit card a few months before since it had then been cloned ! So I could only pay an account and settle the thing the next day.

I finally got my first solid wood acoustic, a brand new Taylor 510, on my "fiftieth years plus one day": I never regretted this choice : It is probably my best guitar and it reminds me of a turn in my personal, musical and professional life.
Nice, funny and good story on the Taylor 510. That is a very nice guitar. I also love the French accent coming through on your post. BTW, Montreal and Quebec City are my wife and my favourite cities.
 
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Discussion Starter #14
These are some GREAT stories everyone. Keep them coming!

My dad's Sovereign was my first guitar. We had a terrible relationship. I got kicked out of the house at 17 and I was ballsy enough to ask if I could have it. I played it for years. I had fuck all for money and I played it so bad that I wore the windings off the strings at several of the fret locations... right to the core wire. I could move the segments back-and-forth like beads on an abacus...no lie. That guitar never sounded good and it sure as hell didn't sound any better in that condition. But I'm glad I held onto it. Our relationship mended in the end shortly before he died and it's a good reminder of those lessons I've learned in life.

My Strat other hand is really nothing special. I bought it new in 86 or 87. I asked my son if he wanted wanted anything specific when I'm gone and he said that's the one that means the most to him as it's the one he identifies with from his childhood years. Little did he know that I kept it all through the years to give to him anyway.
 

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Not sure about sentimental but here's mine. I heard about Vince Cunetto starting his own business (Vinetto) after his success with the Fender Relics. I ordered one immediately. He was still in start-up mode but I didn't worry about it as I knew I could trust him. I sent him my desired specs. He updated me a couple times over a few weeks before it was done, then just before he was ready to ship it, he asked if I would mind if he showed it to John Mayer when he was playing a local concert (St Louis, MO I think). I thought that would be awesome and agreed.

I got a message a couple days later from Vince. He said he would have to build me another one because John Mayer got mine. So I have Vinetto serial number 003, and Mayer got 001 (and 002 I think). At least he is playing "my" guitar. Hope he likes it.:mad:
 

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Nice, funny and good story on the Taylor 510. That is a very nice guitar. I also love the French accent coming through on your post. BTW, Montreal and Quebec City are my wife and my favourite cities.
I hope my French accent does not betray my thoughts though...
 

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I hope my French accent does not betray my thoughts though...
Not at all. Here in my village about 30% have French names but unfortunately the language is getting lost. Only the older ones in the community can speak it now. When I was a kid, several in my class at school spoke French fluently and even a few parents knew very little English. Back then there were enough French-speaking people which made it easy for that not to be a problem.
 
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