I've told this before, but I'll tell it again. My first guitar was a Christmas present, a Gibson classical guitar. It was a wonderful guitar on which to learn. However, I eventually longed for a steel-stringed guitar. I let people know. One night the owner of a local coffee house told me he knew a guy who had a Martin he wanted to sell. I got the guy's number and called him up. He had a Martin, but it was an archtop and in 1965 I knew no self-respecting folkie guitar played an archtop, so I told him I wasn't interested. Then he said, "There's a Martin listed under the 'Money to Load' section of the classifieds that sounds like what you want.

I was down at that pawn shop the next day. I had done quite a bit of reading about what to look for in a guitar. When the man opened the case, it looked like a new guitar. I could find nothing wrong with it. He wanted $180 for it (new D-28's were going for about $500 at the time). I bought it and it is my guitar in every way. All the nicks and gouges are mine, all the fret wear is mine.

I believe this guitar was a gift from God. I am not sure of "the mission" I should be on with it, but I just try to sing my music as honestly as I can. I have a 1957 Martin D-28, a good one at that, and its sentimental value now far exceeds its financial value (and that says a lot).

I don't take her out as much as I used to do, because I fear for her well-being. I will bring her to the Getaway however.

Roger in Baltimore