Snakes nicked my bass

There's a saying that every musician has at least one story about someone stealing their gear. Saturday was my turn.

I was in Sacramento, taking a voice class in a relatively upscale East Sacramento neighborhood when disaster struck. I had parked my car -- and had forgotten that I left my bass guitar in the back seat. Bad move.

Man oh man, my stomach sank like the Titanic after I walked outside and saw that big slab of shattered, tempered glass hanging out the right side of my Honda Civic. And automatically I was struck with a simple, but undeniable fact: my bass was gone -- some cretin broke my window and ran off with my beautiful guitar!

What made the theft even worse is the fact that the stolen bass technically isn't mine. It belonged to my friend Mike -- a guy who plays guitar in a glam cover band, of which I am also a member.

Mike let me "hold on to" his bass guitar about a year ago, because I needed one in order to play in the band. Still, I got attached to it. Even had a name for it -- "Pearl." Pearl is a Alpine white Fender P-Bass guitar, built solid and firm like the woman inspired by the Commodores song "Brick House."

Oh my God, and now she was gone! Worse, I would have to explain this to Mike -- which I was not looking forward to doing. Pearl, after all, was my responsibility -- and by leaving her all alone, the vultures of doom had swooped in and took her away from my loving musical hands forever.

Yeah, I know -- I was the fool for leaving my guitar in the back seat of my car -- and I probably had it coming. You just don't do that nowadays.

Normally, I wouldn't have been so naive -- but the thief caught me on a day when I happened to slip. After all, my spirits were high, I was in Sacramento for the three-day weekend, I was looking forward to checking out the new Indiana Jones flick with my brother and having a great time with my friends and family. Having my bass stolen was not part of the equation.

Plus, the area where the theft occurred is not a bad area, but a placid upper-middle class enclave where traditional red-brick homes line the streets, rope swings hang from oak trees, swaying in the wind, while children frolic in inflatable pools in front yards. Beneath it all, however, lurks something sinister in the shadows: car thieves ready to jack your gear.

And my guitar was stolen at 5 p.m. in the afternoon -- broad daylight, on a fairly busy street.

It just goes to show, a thief can -- and will -- strike anywhere at anytime, regardless of the neighborhood. That's how they operate. It's always the one you don't see coming that gets you.

Things didn't turn out so badly, however. My friend Mike wasn't mad about the guitar -- in fact, he's had the same thing happened to him back in the day.

I went out and dropped about $450 on a brand new ebony Fender P-Bass, and paid about $150 to get my window replaced. The total episode cost me about $600 -- although the lesson I learned about never leaving anything valuable in your car, even during the middle of the day, was priceless.

Regardless of the cost. things could have been worse. The bass and car window were easily replaced -- but thank God nothing else was taken or destroyed during the robbery.

I imagine that Pearl is probably being sold on eBay or hanging in a pawn shop somewhere right now. And I will continue to enjoy pounding out funky bass lines -- while whoever stole my bass will continue to pound out car windows.

I'll take being a musician over a thief any day.