What if you knew you only really needed two things in life, but until now, you simply didn’t understand what they were? Feel lost no longer, friend! C/D, as always, is here to help. Before we go on, we must ask you to stop reading and sell everything that you own. Right, now that you’re purged of the crippling detritus of everyday life, it’s time to get yourself to Galax, Virginia, where you’ll purchase this 1977 Cadillac Eldorado converted for camper duty. For some reason, the seller attempted to abbreviate Eldorado as “El Dordo.” On the face of it, this makes no sense. The extraneous space, the capital D, and the period signifying abbreviation require more keystrokes than the deleted “a.” On the other hand, look at it. It is El Dordo—it can’t possibly be anything else—and it must be yours. To accompany El Dordo, you require only, and nothing less than, a made-to-your-specification acoustic guitar constructed by C.F. Martin & Co. of Nazareth, Pennsylvania.
Just imagine yourself a modern-day Zach Bowman, loaded with considerably more panache and considerably less Cummins. But as the owner of a Cad 425 V-8 (a full 500 cubic inches is just a junkyard away!), who needs a diesel six? Envision the picturesque meander as you wallow your way up the Blue Ridge Parkway and then on toward Pennsylvania’s Lehigh Valley. Thanks to El Dordo’s sleeping compartment, there’s no need to pull in anywhere feelin’ half past dead. Big Purple always beats Big Pink. Just ask Prince.
In the manner of a European automaker, Martin offers factory delivery of your guitar. Because you only need two things in this life and you already have one, our dear aubergine ascetic, we suggest springing for a Custom Shop model, preferably some sort of Dreadnought. A smaller guitar would not do justice to El Dordo’s sheer mass, and a mass-production model simply can’t be enough for the steward and inhabitant of such a machine. Obviously, you’ll want to opt for gold hardware and as much mother-of-pearl inlay as the good people of Nazareth care to lay in. We’d suggest that you inquire about gold frets, but the soft metal would wear out more quickly than El Dordo’s overtaxed rear suspension. We might further recommend that you choose an Engelmann spruce top with a transparent finish, in honor of Dave Engelman of Porsche Cars North America, a wholly owned subsidiary of Dr. Ing. h.c. F. Porsche AG. You don’t know Dave? He is a fine and tireless human being, a man worthy of tribute via carrera corrido, a type of traditional Mexican motorsport ballad best wistfully sung while surrounded by Georgia kudzu at dusk.
Once you’ve loaded your new prized possession into your road-bound abode, the world surely becomes your oyster, Rockefeller. Point that proud purple prow toward the beckoning western horizon. Marvel at the Yoopers as you tour Michigan’s Upper Peninsula; trundle on to South Dakota’s Black Hills and play “This Land Is Your Land” to the four presidents mugging like they’re on the cover of Deep Purple’s In Rock. Stop in Jackson Hole to serenade the Grand Tetons’ giggling gawkers with “Whole Lotta Rosie.” Follow the Columbia River out to the Pacific, hang a left, stop in Humboldt and busk for green, then light out for Lone Pine, California, the Queen Census Designated Place of Inyo County. The burg lies west of Death Valley National Park, nestled in the shadow of Mount Whitney, tallest mountain in the continental United States. There the Dordo shall rest while you compose the Great American country/folk album. Bob Dylan may have a Nobel Prize, but the man ain’t got no Dordo. And in case you took Danish in high school, el dordo is Spanish for “the truth.” You’ll thank us when you hit Lone Pine.
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