On the immediate, unshakable feeling that hits when a guitar chooses you.
Once upon a time, I knew this woman who had an incredible story. She claimed to be the only person to have ever been hit by lightning while driving in a moving car! Now, I don’t know if that’s even possible, but once you got to know her, she would tell the tale. Man, everyone knew her story about being hit with a lightning bolt, and she told the story with such conviction that she was believable. She might’ve even been struck twice? I dunno…
This leads me to tell you all that I have a long-standing theory about such sudden flashes. I call it the “Thunderbolt” theory, basically because it sounds cooler than “lightning bolt” and it pays homage to the old Supro Thunderbolt amps, which I adore. By definition, a thunderbolt is a “single flash of lightning accompanied by a loud crash of thunder, or metaphorically, a sudden, shocking, and unexpected event.” So, have you ever been hit by a thunderbolt? Once? Twice? Many times? It could be a first love, or a new car. But man, when that thunderbolt hits you, based on my theory, you just need to heed its call. A thunderbolt is going to make you forget all else and just love on that person or thing because somehow, everything clicked, and now you’re smitten. And it’s an instant feeling. A sudden flash!
I’ve been hit by the guitar bolt a few times, and I remember each one vividly. Like my first Jag-Stang, which I thought (at the time) was the finest guitar I’d ever held. Or the time I missed out on buying a rare Supro Tri Tone, an experience that had me feeling ill for a day or two. Over time there have been guitars and people who have moved me to feel a certain way, but it’s nothing like the thunderbolt. Let me explain, good people.
Last summer, when I was resetting my health and trying to live clean and simply, I happened upon this little guitar that was hidden among stock in a music store in North Carolina. I was walking around and noticed this gold glittery thing, and every time I glanced over, I became a little more interested. The details of it screamed out to me, but since I’m not buying many guitars anymore, I just ignored it in the moment. But the next morning, this guitar was still on my mind. First thing! I kept thinking about the offset lines and the gold/redburst combination finish. So, a few days later, I made the trek back down south to buy this oddity. I had no choice, really. I was hit by the thunderbolt!
Who made this guitar? Who knows? It stands within a super-bizarre family of guitars that often featured strange-looking pickups, carved aluminum pickguards, and loco headstock designs. Similar guitars were obviously made at the same factory in Japan, circa 1966, but I could never figure it out. Sometimes that’s okay because it adds to the intrigue.
The tremolo is a copy of a copy. The odd slide switches work fine but can begin sliding—even if you don’t bump them! The pickups are incredible, even though the guitar is sort of clunky and not well balanced. Of course, being hit by the thunderbolt has you overlooking flaws because you’re simply in love. And you know what? I’m still smitten by this instrument.
“Being hit by the thunderbolt has you overlooking flaws because you're simply in love.”
In the end, I was able to get a Supro Tri Tone, but I sold it because the feeling didn’t last. It just wasn’t the same as the first time I saw one. I also sold my Jag-Stang, and then, miraculously, I found it again and bought it back! As for this strange guitar, it’s still with me, because, you know, the thunderbolt!
