I will tell you the story of my Yamaha Super Flighter SF500 guitar year '82.
In 1988, when I was 16 years old, I wanted to form a Rock and Roll band with some friends from the neighborhood. At that time I did not have an electric guitar and I was trying to buy one but could not raise the money.
One day a fellow student told me that he met a man of Italian descent who had a guitar for sale. He described it as a dream guitar, in perfect condition and at a good price. He was absolutely right.
I had to go to my father and asked him to please go see that guitar and he agreed.
When we got to the site, there she was: totally sublime and flawless.
According to the story the seller told us, this had only been used once and then kept until then when I found it.
My father bought it for me.
You cannot imagine the sadness I feel when I see these photographs.
After using it for many years and appreciating it as my most valuable possession, I had to sell it.
That guitar was part of me and my family, my brothers appreciated it perhaps as much as I did. She accompanied me in many band rehearsals and concerts. I also worked on weekends playing with my band at a Disco.
Could you imagine how many memories I have of what I lived with her?
That guitar that my now-late father gave me escaped my hands due to a financial emergency, which pressured me to sell my only materially valuable and sentimentally priceless item.
I Hope to Have She Again
Unfortunately, I don't have an image of me holding my guitar, but I do have a pair where my brother (@nachomolina) played it.
Every time I feel sad, Robert's words comfort me and give me a message of hope: