Should've been here in the 60's

Cary's got a gig but Cary doesn't have a guitar.
He's hocked all of them.  Well, he still has a ukelele and a dime store Fender rip-off.

But you can't play a gig with those he tells me.

Awhile ago I help my friend Bill put in some new windows in his house out in the East Bay.  He wants to pay me for my time.  I refuse of course, he's one of my oldest friends and hell, I love working him.  We catch up on things and drink beer and swear and fart. We work well together.
Anyway, his insistence wins over my "Hell, no, you're not paying me."
So the money wasn't really mine in the first place.  I shouldn't even have it.  It's not real money to me so I decide to get Cary's best guitar out of the pawnshop so he can play the show.

We meet at the Utah for quick one before heading out to the Mission.  He tells me he has 60 bucks for the cause.  I'm not quite sure why he decides to put on the Maple leaf bandito mask.

He takes the bus, I go on my bike of course.
When I get to the window to pay he hands me $40.  "What happened to the other twenty Cary?"
No answer. 

I start to talk to the guy behind the counter.  Ron.  He's a fourth generation pawnshop guy.  He makes it clear he doesn't give a shit about the business, it's only because it's been in the family forever. Cary tells his sob story of habitual guitar hocking and Ron's like shaking his head.
"You know how many times I've heard this?  You should've been here in the 60's, that's when I heard it two dozen times a day."

I feel Cary is trying to hustle me out of the store.  He's like that.  I get very little time with Ron.

Oh, and if you're in San Francisco this Thursday, Cary's playing the Utah.  I'm going to be doing some mountain clog dancing for a couple of his songs.  He likes that clip clop of shoes keeping the beat on the old wooden stage floor.