One of the reasons this guitar is so special to me is that it was handed down to me from my father, whom I only met once. He left it with my mom when he was still traveling, playing guitar. He left it when I was still a baby, in an effort to get me to play.

But it never really took until a few summers ago, when I was dating this girl that I was madly in love with. We had a crazy South American breakup, and I was too embarrassed to come back home, so I  rented a room down there from my cousin. At that point I kind of thought it might be time to start playing.

And that night when I went to bed, my cousin said there’s somebody in the house, and when he came into my room I hit him with the guitar. And then we dragged him outside. We went to check on him later and he was gone, and we never saw him again.

Since that night, this guitar goes with me wherever I go.