“So long old boy.”
I sold my motorcycle the other day. It wasn’t a hard sell. It was a good little bike. I put a fair amount of mileage on it, and it needed some loving, but it was reliable and ran like a champ. I gave the guy a decent deal, and he gave me the cash. I needed the money to buy a new drumset. I didn’t get a new drumset though; i bought an old one from an old man. I have been obsessively scanning craigslist lately looking for a decentone to buy. I wanted one that was aesthetically pleasing and packed a lot of punch, preferably an American made one from the 70′s or early 80′s. There were a few candidates, but no really sweet deals. There was one ad though that caught my interest.
this is it:
Ludwig Drums 80`s – $300 (Tezel Rd.)
Date: 2012-05-25, 3:22PM
Made in U.S.A. 80`s Ludwig drums, snare is Remo chrome over wood, I have had this set for about 25 yrs. All hardware is Gibraltar and pearl and is included. Ride and crash are not Zildjian, this set is ready to play. Moving out of state and do not want to take them, I`m also kinda old and my playing days are over. $300 bucks, Please do not waste my time, serious buyers only…call or text T.J.
I couldn’t tell what the drums actually were, but I had this notion, call it a motivating thought or feeling, so I txtd @8:00am. Can I come by after work to ck out your drum set? He txtd back that he was moving out-of-state today, and was about to load them into the uhaul. I explained that I was @ work until 3:00pm. He said that I could come by after work and he might still be around.
Logic was trying to tell me that it wasn’t worth the effort, but something else made putting forth the effort, effortless. I was moving towards something special, but I didn’t know it. I was skeptical. About a quarter to 3, I started to wonder about it, and thought it might be a good idea to tell somebody who cares exactly where I was going and why, so, I gave one of my co-workers the name, phone number and address of where I was to be found if I came up missing. The verbiage in the ad seemed to ring with a bitter, kind of harsh tone if you ask me. The guy was brief on the phone via txt, he kinda hollered at me when we spoke, and was supposedly leaving town that very day. I concocted this crazy story in my head about how long those drums may have actually been for sale on Craigslist, and the countless number of music enthusiasts who had driven out to the west-side to see them…never to be heard from again. The headlines would read:
THE CRAIGSLIST KILLER
The bodies of many local musicians were discovered buried in a San Antonio man’s back yard…
When 3 o’clock came I didn’t take any chances. The guy was asking $300.00. I had over a grand in my pocket, so I took out the 3 large and put it in my shirt pocket. I put the rest in my backpack and locked it in the trunk. I had the directions mapped out on my phone, but my battery was dying so i wrote them out on a post it note and stuck it on the dash. I hit highway 1604 West on a mission in Friday afternoon traffic @ the peak of the early summer heat. At first, I was unsure as I drove, because, although the West-side of San Anto is not uncharted territory for me, I am not as familiar with the land outside the loop. I thought I missed my exit, but drove until I almost did. I pulled into the turning lane two cars behind a blood-red(w/pinstripe) 52′ Ford pickup. Just then, something off of ZZtop Eliminator came on the classic rock station. I took this as an omen, and became instantly relaxed.
From then on it was easy. I felt totally and naturally at ease. I was at one with all that is. I found the house, and parked as close as I could, because I just knew. T.j. met me in the driveway with enthusiasm, and he explained that he had a very small dog that was prone to yapping at visitors that he needed to put away before we went in to look at the drums. Most of the mystery from my first real life impression dissolved. You see, T.J. is an old Native American artist. He is also hard of hearing. He is moving his family to Syracuse, New York for work. Nobody buys his stuff down here. “We do pretty good out West, and up North.” He told me. My mind was blown, but i wasn’t freaked out. The set was cherry, had decent heads, amazing hardware, and antique cymbals. I felt like a car nut that just found a lotus in a barn. He asked if I was a drummer. “Uh huh.” I said. “Go ahead and try them out if you want.” He urged me to p try them out, and before I did, I pulled the money out of my shirt pocket and placed it in his hand. “You want to buy them?!” he screamed over some unseen white noise. “Yes sir!” I yelled and shook my head smiling and said: “These are awesome!” I scooted up the stool and adjusted the high-hat stand and toms before I busted out my best animal impression. He seemed pleased.Not only did I get the drums, hardware, and cymbals, but he also let me have a stick bag full of good sticks, a set of antique wfl brushes, a great throne with a back rest, two drum cases, and a basket of hoops and old lugs and hardware. I was stoked!
“Thank you so much.” I said genuinely. He seemed happy when he said that he was glad that I was getting them, and not anybody else. I disassembled them, and he and his teenage son helped me take them to the driveway. After I loaded them in the car he gave me this:
JVC M70
So, you never know. You never know unless you know what someone has been through, where they are going, or what they may do. If you don’t ask, or you don’t go you may never find out. What’s the use of being if you are gonna be ruled by fear, or greed. These feelings will come because they have to. it’s inevitable. You only get one shot at life most of the time, so if you don’t make a move, you’ll never have a chance. Sometimes one shot is all you need because you never know when or if you’ll have a mystical encounter where somebody will bless you with a cosmic boom box of your very own.
