A tale of a stolen Rickenbacker.
Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2003 8:57 am
I love it when this sort of thing happens. I have a similar story myself, which I'll save for another time.
The story so far: My pal Phil (of the fabulous Atlanta rock group Homeroom) had a turquoise 360, which he special-ordered (we worked at a GC together); he liked my Rics and ordered one for himself. Very cool guitar.
Well, he and his band were loading up vehicles for a gig, which was an hour or so away, and the person whose task it was to load Phil's guitar in the vehcle accidentally left it in their driveway as they drove off. No one realized it until it was too late; they turned around and returned to find no guitar. (The remorseful bandmate, another fellow GC employee, replaced Phil's Ric with an equally cool 360 in midnight blue.)
Here's where I'll let Phil pick up the story:
--------------------------------------------------
Sometimes in the world, sh*t happens. Weird, ####ed-up sh*t. Like, for example, your bass player accidentally leaves your brand new Rickenbacker guitar sitting on the street outside your house as your band departs for its first gig ever. Of course, you don’t realize the guitar is missing until you and your band are at the gig 45 minutes south of where you had last seen said guitar.
For those of you who remember when this happened to yours truly, you all know are absolutely irate and disheartened I was. For those of you who don’t know me, I was pretty ####ing ****** when I lost this guitar. It was a birthday present I had received in February of 2001 only to have had stolen October 31 of the same year. After filing a police report and calling a slew of pawn shops and music stores, I gave up. I realized that I would never this guitar again. So what, sh*t happens, right?
Unbelievably, I sit here in front of my computer almost exactly two years to-the-day later with my recently recovered Rickenbacker in mint condition. What’s up with that?
At about 2:30 this afternoon, my bass player Adam Youngblood called me from Guitar Center Atlanta.
“Dude, you have got to come down here right now,” he sputtered into the phone.
“Why, what’s up?” I asked.
“Some dude just walked up to the guitar counter and tried to sell me your stolen Rickenbacker.”
“I’ll be right ####ing there.”
After a nervous shower and cigarette my girlfriend Elaina and I hopped in her car and raced down 85 to Guitar Center both exchanging expressions of incredulity.
When we got to Guitar Center Adam and a handful of other employees were standing outside waiting for me. As I raced up the stairs Adam told me to follow him. I was lead into the store and directly to the area behind the guitar counter. There, resting in its case was my turquoise Rickenbacker with nary a scratch nor a scuff on it to indicate that it had ever left my possession. I gawked and giggled like a ####ing moron as I stared down at what I thought had to be an illusion or a hoax of sorts. The police officer who was standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a man sitting on a guitar amp. The man stood up and told me that he had bought the guitar from a pawn shop on Ponce de Leon avenue, practically one block from my house, almost two years ago.
I will spare you all the details of this poor guy’s detainment in a cop car and the verification of serial numbers and such. The point is, he didn’t steal it, he just happened to buy it from a pawn shop. I don’t really give a sh*t how he got it because as most of you know all I cared about was getting my guitar back.
To sum up, almost two years to-the-day after it was stolen, I got back my Rickenbacker back when some guy came into Guitar Center and tried to sell it to the very man who had lost it in the first place. That’s some serious poetic justice my friends. Thanks for reading and thanks to Adam for losing and finding my guitar. Homeroom rules!
Love,
Phil
http://www.ilovehomeroom.com
p.s. Kenny Howes, I replied to your email for this cause your address book is more in order than mine. Send this to anyone you feel would get a kick out of it. Kenny, hit me up. Word.
The story so far: My pal Phil (of the fabulous Atlanta rock group Homeroom) had a turquoise 360, which he special-ordered (we worked at a GC together); he liked my Rics and ordered one for himself. Very cool guitar.
Well, he and his band were loading up vehicles for a gig, which was an hour or so away, and the person whose task it was to load Phil's guitar in the vehcle accidentally left it in their driveway as they drove off. No one realized it until it was too late; they turned around and returned to find no guitar. (The remorseful bandmate, another fellow GC employee, replaced Phil's Ric with an equally cool 360 in midnight blue.)
Here's where I'll let Phil pick up the story:
--------------------------------------------------
Sometimes in the world, sh*t happens. Weird, ####ed-up sh*t. Like, for example, your bass player accidentally leaves your brand new Rickenbacker guitar sitting on the street outside your house as your band departs for its first gig ever. Of course, you don’t realize the guitar is missing until you and your band are at the gig 45 minutes south of where you had last seen said guitar.
For those of you who remember when this happened to yours truly, you all know are absolutely irate and disheartened I was. For those of you who don’t know me, I was pretty ####ing ****** when I lost this guitar. It was a birthday present I had received in February of 2001 only to have had stolen October 31 of the same year. After filing a police report and calling a slew of pawn shops and music stores, I gave up. I realized that I would never this guitar again. So what, sh*t happens, right?
Unbelievably, I sit here in front of my computer almost exactly two years to-the-day later with my recently recovered Rickenbacker in mint condition. What’s up with that?
At about 2:30 this afternoon, my bass player Adam Youngblood called me from Guitar Center Atlanta.
“Dude, you have got to come down here right now,” he sputtered into the phone.
“Why, what’s up?” I asked.
“Some dude just walked up to the guitar counter and tried to sell me your stolen Rickenbacker.”
“I’ll be right ####ing there.”
After a nervous shower and cigarette my girlfriend Elaina and I hopped in her car and raced down 85 to Guitar Center both exchanging expressions of incredulity.
When we got to Guitar Center Adam and a handful of other employees were standing outside waiting for me. As I raced up the stairs Adam told me to follow him. I was lead into the store and directly to the area behind the guitar counter. There, resting in its case was my turquoise Rickenbacker with nary a scratch nor a scuff on it to indicate that it had ever left my possession. I gawked and giggled like a ####ing moron as I stared down at what I thought had to be an illusion or a hoax of sorts. The police officer who was standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a man sitting on a guitar amp. The man stood up and told me that he had bought the guitar from a pawn shop on Ponce de Leon avenue, practically one block from my house, almost two years ago.
I will spare you all the details of this poor guy’s detainment in a cop car and the verification of serial numbers and such. The point is, he didn’t steal it, he just happened to buy it from a pawn shop. I don’t really give a sh*t how he got it because as most of you know all I cared about was getting my guitar back.
To sum up, almost two years to-the-day after it was stolen, I got back my Rickenbacker back when some guy came into Guitar Center and tried to sell it to the very man who had lost it in the first place. That’s some serious poetic justice my friends. Thanks for reading and thanks to Adam for losing and finding my guitar. Homeroom rules!
Love,
Phil
http://www.ilovehomeroom.com
p.s. Kenny Howes, I replied to your email for this cause your address book is more in order than mine. Send this to anyone you feel would get a kick out of it. Kenny, hit me up. Word.
