"Living With G A S"

c. 2007 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(3-07)



The hour was late. It was long after midnight in rural Geauga County. Moonbeams reflected from puddles of water in the driveway. Pine needles wind-walked across the road with a lazy rhythm that fit the darkness. Peaceful wisps of rain spotted the kitchen window. Only the glow of a computer screen lit our household. Everyone else had sensibly gone to bed! Soccer Fairy and Leigh were snoring like petite kittens. My own eyes felt heavy, but restlessness kept slumber at bay. Wife Liz succumbed to fatigue after one glass of wine filled her tummy. Yet I was still in cyberspace, searching for hidden treasure...
Through the haze of darkness, eBay was calling!
I felt a tingle of embarrassment while logging on to my account. My wife was certain to critique the act with severe emotions. Being unemployed meant that self-discipline should negate such reckless desires. I had no logic for visiting an auction site just to tempt myself. Still, it felt thrilling to type ‘Electric Guitars’ into the search box. When pages of results started to appear, I felt elated. Yes, yes, yes… I read each entry lovingly… an American Stratocaster at $200.00, or a vintage 60’s Les Paul at $2,000. A Teisco for $350… a ’52 Telecaster reissue for $1500… hours left to bid, or days left to bid… it didn’t matter. I clicked through one after another. My only pause came to check that Liz was still busy in Dreamland!
Eventually, I reached an unfamiliar image. Instead of a stylish musical instrument, a book cover appeared. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Was it a repair manual? Or a manufacturer’s catalog? A closer view answered my silent questions:

Item number: 190091790278 GAS - for Fender, Gibson, PRS, G&L, Martin guitar players. Gift book for suffers of ‘Guitar Acquisition Syndrome.’
LIVING WITH G A S by Jay Wright
BUY IT NOW price: $14.00 USD
SHIPPING: $3.00 USD
AUTHOR WEBSITE: www.jaystrings.com

I chuckled quietly while reading the colorful eBay description. Was this book about…me? The ‘syndrome’ detailed by Mr. Wright seemed hauntingly familiar. But my attention span did not endure. A red Kalamazoo ‘Tonemaster’ in Arizona diverted my interest. It was tempting, classically beautiful, and cheap! After placing a low bid on the guitar, I surrendered. My reserve of energy was gone.
The Sandman toyed with my head, as oblivion took hold. I was at a club with Orville Gibson and Leo Fender. We shared coffee as I praised their contributions to music history. "You guys were true pioneers. Just think of what you gave the world! Without your instruments, there would have been no Buddy Holly… no Jimmy Page… no electric revolution for Bob Dylan… no Jimi Hendrix…"
In the morning, I checked e-mail while Liz lingered in the shower. A message on Yahoo! about the red Kalamazoo caused me to chill. It read: "You won! This item is yours. Please pay now!" I was flabbergasted. Why hadn’t I been outbid? My joy of conquest was tempered with fear. How would I explain the purchase to my spouse?
Finally, I returned to the ‘GAS’ listing. Re-reading the information produced a sort of personal revelation:
"A signed copy of this book is the perfect all-occasion gift for guitar and bass players of ALL ages. Here's 200 pages of tongue-in-cheek stories, confessions, suggestions, opinions, and pictures from over 200 afflicted players, store owners, and collectors. They tell of their obsessions with the largest selling musical instruments in the world: guitars and basses - how they acquire them, why they hang onto them, how they decide which has to go (if one MUST go), and how they individually experience GAS. Some even confess to the lengths they have gone to hide or deceive their families about their latest purchases. Well-known artists like Will Ray, Joe Wilson, and Brent Mason plus lesser-known players from 23 countries around the world share their insights and - in their own words - describe their situation. Think there's only one kind of GAS? No, this book identifies 42 strains. Think you're the only with this affliction? No, you have lots of company - this affliction has spread around the world. Oh, and there's a self-administered test so you can diagnose the severity of your affliction."
It was as if Mr. Wright had taken a page from my diary, and rewritten it into a full-length manuscript. I was not alone!
"Why do countless GAS sufferers avoid seeking therapy for a disease that has now spread to the 4 corners of the earth? Why do they only speak in jest about their affliction? Do they think that ignoring it will help it go away?"
I knew better than to believe that my hunger for off-the-wall guitars would simply vanish over time. The need to buy was pervasive. It moved me to procure many battered, unsightly relics that were soon banished to the ‘Dead Zone’ in my closet.
"In this book Jay Wright provides insights, humor, and philosophy for living with this affliction. Collected from over 200 enthusiasts in 23 countries, his research findings are a definitive work in the understanding and enjoyment of GAS."
A lump formed in my stomach from reading the brief review. Each word spoke with unmistakable directness. I felt guilty and mad. Finally, a quote from contributor Bryan Griffith nailed me between the eyes:
"You never know when GAS is going to strike or how hard it will hit. Be warned, if you are a lover of and a player of fine quality stringed instruments, particularly of the guitar variety, it will get you at some point when you least expect it. There is no escaping its merciless attack and it will continue to attack until it has firmly grasped you and you beg for mercy. And it will show you no mercy. It gnaws away at you, appearing in dreams of clever deception and methodical planning to counter GAS’s greatest opposing force – the ever present, disapproving wife!"
Anxiety grew after reading the passage. How would I explain my new plectrum to Liz?
Planning for the revelation encompassed several days. A Fed Ex shipping report charted the Kalamazoo’s expected day of arrival. Then, I rearranged our family schedule. Everything fell quickly into place! But a single flaw ruined my work. The guitar arrived on Tuesday instead of Monday. The scheme went for naught.
We were leaving on an afternoon shopping trip when the delivery truck reached our neighborhood. I made a feeble excuse about forgetting to turn off the coffeepot, and jumped out of our car. But Liz was skilled at sensing uneasiness in my voice. She hesitated as I ran up the driveway. There was nearly enough time to hide the evidence. But she squealed with delight as I became wedged in the front door. "Can I take a look, too? Please please please! Let me see what you’ve got!"
I WAS BUSTED!!!!
My confession did not sound convincing. "I was trying to respect your feelings… I didn’t want you to worry… it was an accident… an eBay oops!"
She raised an eyebrow. "I don’t mind that you bought a new toy. What makes me upset is that you kept it hidden. Don’t you understand?"
I nodded. She was an incredible woman.
"Trust me," she said. "I love you."
My mood brightened. "In that case, did you know that Ibanez made a weird model called ‘The Iceman?’ It’s only a hundred bucks right now…"
Liz glared with alarm. "Rodneyyy!! You’re such a poo!"

FROM THE GEAUGA COUNTY MAPLE LEAF NEWSPAPER, CHARDON, OHIO