Now listen here—this ol’ Ovation been with me a while. 'Bout four, maybe five years back, I snatched her up from A to Z pawn shop off the highway. She was sittin’ there like a lonely black woman with a story to tell, just waitin’ on somebody who could hear the music. I called her Second Hand. Not ‘cause she ain’t worth much—but ‘cause that’s the life she came from. Like me. Like most of us, really.
Now she had her charm—dat round back, deep tone, and that sparkle in her top like a old flame still burnin’. But baby, she had issues. That action was high enough to need a step ladder. You couldn’t press a string without feelin’ like you was pushing’ on barbed wire.
Only trick I knew for an Ovation was takin’ out the shims under the saddle. So I did. Helped a little, but not near enough. Still felt like playin’ a steel fence with a fukin slingshot. Seemed like the bridge was liftin’ in the back—maybe the bracin’ was comin' loose. Could’ve been any damn thing. She was old. She’d seen some fights.
But I couldn’t throw her out. Hell no. She got that sound. That sparkle. I wanted her for the street. For the street corner. For the truth. So I said, To hell with it. Got me a Dremel, took a breath, and cut grooves into the bridge myself. Yeah, I know—it sound crazy. But I seen it once before in another pawn shop—some other poor soul tryin’ to get their axe back in shape. Figured, what do I got to lose? Two hundred bucks and a dream?
So I marked my lines best I could. Eyeballed it like with no glasses. Cut in slow. Careful. Prayed I didn’t butcher her soul.
And damn if it didn’t work.
Ain’t perfect. But it’s lots better. She plays now. The strings sit right, don’t fight back like they used to. Put some silk strings on her—yeah, they’ll do for now. I can fingerpick again. I can feel the road callin’.
Adjusted my strap, tightened up my boots. I’m ready to busk again, ready to spill my soul into the city . And Second Hand? She’s hummin’ again. Still got a little fight in her. Still got stories to tell.
Sometimes, you gotta break somethin’ to bring it back to life.
You ever had to get gritty like that? Had to carve your own way just to keep singin’? Tell me ‘bout it.