While in Hungary, one of the guys I was rooming with had an acoustic guitar. He was pretty good (could actually play songs) and everyone in the apartment would stay up late making up songs to his playing. With my roommate’s help I was able to remember my E, A, and D chords. He then taught me the U2 song that is key to anyone’s mastery of E, A, and D. I played that every time I had his guitar. And then I decided I needed to play that song even more, so I went to the local instrument shop and asked for a cheap, used guitar. They didn’t have any, but would call me when they did.
A few weeks passed with me stopping by the shop every few days until they finally had one. The shop owner pulled it out with pride. I don’t remember if it was a double cut-away, but it was a red stained wood with f-holes. It was acoustic with nylon strings. I thought it looked like a violin. The owner said he wanted the equivalent of $50. I explained in my bad Hungarian that I wanted one with a hole in the middle. The guy looked at me like I was crazy and I never went back.
I wish I had gotten that guitar. It was some Czech made guitar that would’ve probably led me into an amazing career as a jazz guitarist, flying around the world fulfilling all the pretentious stereo-types that come with that. But instead I needed a guitar with a hole in the middle and didn’t pick up another guitar for a couple more years.