Fast. . .

 . . . four. . . and it ain't a CAR. . .

 My Farfisa Fast Four and Leslie 145 were setup in a prominent location in the den of our apartment for quick and easy access.  Truth is, I'm not sure if I even played once a week at that time. But I was building my vinyl record album collection of my favorite jazz cats during the period and joyfully and effortlessly soaking in their music as often as I could.  My Coltrane, Dolphy, Adderly and McLean collections grew with much less reliance on the old Tull, Gentle Giant and Yes for musical satisfaction.  The library incorporated the musical tastes of my significant other as well, sometimes not so willingly or graciously on my part though.   

My technique and creativity suffered during this period.  Whenever I played, generally on Sunday afternoons (I now can't believe it was that seldom), I ran through the same several bebop arrangements of standards that I had learned from or through my elementary-school friend Bob. I was grateful for Bob's influence which led me into the direction of jazz, that combined with my exposure to a superb collection of jazz, vinyl LPs at the college radio station where I worked during my undergraduate years.

But much like a car, this instrument (probably now a collector's item) was worth very little upon trade-in.

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