I'd say that when it comes to a white Les Paul Custom, a good many guitarists would think of Randy Rhoads and rightfully so. I mean, the guy was a game changer in the world of Rock and the hoards of fans he has to this day will testify to that very point. That said, when I see a a white Custom, I think of Lindsey Buckingham and here's why:
 

      Back in the day (trust me, I need to be general about the time period, but you can guess), I had a girlfriend that loved Fleetwood Mac. Loved 'em like no other and if one of their slow, tears flowing down your face love songs came on the radio, you couldn't pull her away with a team of Clydesdales. That meant that whatever attempts to "conduct some business" I was trying to accomplish were immediately put on hold with her declaration of, "Wait. That's my song". Jeebus Jimminy, I can't say that I exactly had Errol Flynn skills in high school, but I now had a new definition of "attempted coitus interruptus", for Pete's sake. Anyway, this was also the period when Creem and Hit Parader magazines were the primary sources of anything Rock n Roll, so most of the pictures of Mr. Buckingham were with a bushy head of hair, a beard and that white Custom. "Now I have my in", I thought, so the next time I visited "Ms. X", I took my new edition of Creem to her house and we looked at the pictures of the mighty Fleetwood Mac together (I also thought that the young Stevie Nicks was hotter than a forgotten frying pan on the stove, but I could never even act like I even saw her). That would be a betrayal of the highest form to a young high school girl. So I just concentrated on that white Custom and made my comments center about how cool he looked with that guitar, etc. All the while, we endlessly listened to the band and after a time and as if by some miracle, the music began to have a certain desired effect on this young lass and in my mind, that was the greatest reward I could have been given. Heck, all I wanted to do before meeting her was listen to KISS and ride my motorcycle, but now that I had immersed myself into the world of the slow, tears falling down her face love song, I discovered that there was something even greater than a 50- yard wheelie down the middle of the street. It was the warm feeling I got when a boyfriend and his girlfriend sit across from each other, have a deep conversation, and hold hands while looking gently into the other's eyes...Nah, I'm full of crap because you know exactly what happened and it was an early "Yeah, Son" moment for young Ray.
  

         I don't know where this girl is today and hope she's doing well, but I would like to personally thank Lindsey Buckingham and his white Les Paul for spurring those early, high school memories and events. And, my apologies to Kawasaki for discovering that there are more important things that riding a dirt bike...