My baby is a 1989 Martin Custom 15, no longer manufactured. Lovely to hold, big dreadnought sound. Bought it on a pilgrimage with my Dad at Mandolin Brothers in New York when I was in my teens. "Jory," my Dad said to me, "looks like you're pretty serious about this guitar thing. Guess we'll have to get you a real guitar." And off we went. Now that I'm a struggling professional singer-songwriter, I think my father regrets his initial investment. But I don't: that Martin is still my baby.