My first Gibson was a beautiful thing which a dear sister bought for me (new!) as a gift in 1972 and handcarried to Copenhagen where I was working. I had a great evening playing it, loved it, and we stayed up late drinking on someone's boat. Took a cab back and had to put it in the trunk. Months later I was still haranguing that damn cab company, but of course it never showed up. Sigh. But twice I have had a wallet with everything I needed to exist in it returned to me from miles off by honest people. One guy had to stop on the freeway to retrieve it for me 'cuz it was on the car's top when I drove up the ramp. Now that's going the extra mile!

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