So yesterday, I’m sitting in my office (aka the cave), in my basement, and Marty is sitting right next to me. Now, I’ll admit–it’s been a while since I gave Marty a good romp. In fact, I took it out of the case about a week ago, played it for 5 minutes, then put it on the stand next to my desk.

All of a sudden, out of no where–and I mean no where, I didn’t sneeze, I didn’t cough, I didn’t bump anything, I didn’t even breathe on it–I hear this:

CRACK!

…and the strings vibrate a little letting a note ring.

I look over there, and do you know what I saw? I saw this:

That’s right. It cracked. THE GUITAR CRACKED! And not on a seam somewhere, or where the neck hits the body. Not somewhere that can be easily patched, replaced or glued. IT CRACKED RIGHT ON THE BODY!

(I’m crying now as I write this).

OK. Admittedly, I haven’t played Marty enough lately. Admittedly a guitar is safer in the case with the humidor in it (I even bought the fancy black plastic humidor). Admittedly this room is a little dry, and subject to slight temperature changes due to the coldness of the basment, and the heat of the furnace which kicks on and off every few minutes.

BUT COME ON!?!?!

Are you crying now? I still am.

The good news is, the guitar still sounds great. Maybe this will be one of those cool thinks like Jimi Hendrix’s upside down strat, or the whole in Willie Nelson’s guitar from picking so much. Maybe one day (this assumes I become a rock star–which won’t happen, but bare with me) Martin will start making special editon models after mine that come pre-cracked from the factory (for an extra charge).

I just don’t want the crack to get worse! If this guitar stays just like this forever, I’ll be happy. But what if the crack gets bigger? Is there a patron saint of guitars? I’m gonna go look that up on wiki and start praying to him/her.