This guitar has been in my personal collection for over a decade and if you've ever read any of our daffy stories, then you surely have heard of the "hallowed vault". That is a place so secret, only I and Ray knows of its exact location. As a matter of fact, we currently can't even remember where it is. To see it, we must drive blindfolded to the lair, aided by a top government- issued guidance system. Once there, two ex-Navy Seals direct us to the underground vault. Ray and I then insert our secret decoding keys into the panel and after a retina scan, we are permitted access. Inside this most coveted of places is every guitar you can imagine so every now and then, we decide to pull one out and offer it up to our 'Elks. This guitar is, I dare say  a one- owner piece from Birmingham, Al. Years ago, I got the call from a good friend down there and he says to me, "Come on down here, Lee. I gots something fo ya". I did as It was told, hopping into the van for a two hour ride. When I arrived, he greeted me with a smile and a glass of sweet tea (That's how we do it down here) and after some jocularity, we got right down to the business at hand. That business was this very guitar. I asked if I could play the guitar, because I just had to know how it played and sounded. The tone was rich, creamy and made me think of the tone that Page had on Zeppelin's first album. The neck felt chunky and full as I glided my hand down the fretboard. Next up was to check and see if everything was original. In this business, it's all about that and boy, was I was ready. Flat head screwdriver- check. Blacklight- check. Phillip's head- check and double- check. I opened her up like I was Geraldo looking for a Tommy gun in Al Capone's vault. The solder joints were as if they were done at Fender yesterday: Completely untouched. All of the pot dates matched up and the neck pocket was perfect. I double- checked the Kluson tuners to make sure there wasn't an okey- doke situation (that's where the tuners were on and off). That would not be acceptable in an establishment like ours and when I was satisfied all was good, my friend and I sat down with some "Kentucky clear" and started counting off Confederate bearer bounds (they're still legal tender here in the South). After that we shook hands, listened to the Battle Hymn of the Republic (with tears in our eyes of course) and I then departed with one of the cleanest brown cases I'd seen in quite some time. Friends, this guitar is much like life itself: It isn't about the destination, it's all about the journey and for me, I remember the excitement, or shall I say the pursuit of this fine instrument. For you, you can remember all the great tunes you'll have playing her. Or, maybe you'll wonder about all of the great tunes that have already ran through her veins. Time to make your own memories- time to plug in and play!