A cheap 1963 Kent electric guitar. Not for anything but the paint job I did on it. While I was replacing the pick-ups, in one fell swoop, I spilt a can of red enamel paint on the work bench and dropped the gut plate on the paint. When I peeled the plate off the paint, the most amazing pattern appeared, like endless river estuaries in blood red. I painted the body flat enamel white. It sounded a thousand times better than before. I gave it to my nephew when my arthritis took all the strength from my fingers. Of course, it vanished.