Early in November I was summoned to Chicago for an impromptu meeting. Though all my stolen guitars had been replaced by then, I succumbed to an attack of GAS (Guitar Acquisition Syndrome.) Having briefly toyed with the idea of buying something from the Dark Side (i.e. a Gibson Les Paul) I settled on a Rickenbacker 330.Now Rickenbackers, aside from being one of the world's most photogenic strain of guitars, are also one of the most esoteric. They are still handmade in California, feature two trussrods (instead of one) inside a baseball bat-like neck, as well as a small cavity which may be responsible for their jangly sound. The Beatles used Rickenbackers for their early hits (I Feel Fine, Hard Day's Night...) and, more recently, Peter Buck of REM uses Rickenbackers almost exclusively on stage.
So I placed my order with Musician's Fiend (MF) ten days ahead of my trip. Eight days before, they confirmed my order, and gave me a FedEx tracking number with 2-5 day delivery guaranteed... A week later, the guitar had still not arrived, and I was not planning to stay in the States for more than a couple of days. MF then offered to send out a second Ric 330 with free overnight delivery. Two days later, I left Boston for Ottawa in the Great White North and neither guitar had shown up.Once in Canada, I carefully studied the options available for shipping a guitar overnight from Boston to Ottawa and dove into the on-line paperwork: customs declaration, commercial invoice, certificate of origin...I'm glad that NAFTA serves a purpose.
The day before I was scheduled to leave Ottawa to fly back to France, our friendly Boston office manager shipped the first guitar to arrive, via Fedex, overnight to Ottawa, guaranteed delivery by noon, which was fortuitous, as I was scheduled to leave Ottawa at 2 PM with the Air France bus.
That morning, FedEx rang me to announce that my package had arrived, was clearing customs and would be delivered shortly. At noon the guitar still hadn't arrived. So my parents and I drove out to the FedEx facility, where we were informed that the guitar had been impounded by Canada Customs. I went over to see the Customs officer, built like a lumberjack, who informed that that was an awfully pretty guitar. I could only agree. He thought the declared value was understated, and I had to show him my original invoice, which I had fortunately kept. When he learnt that I was leaving for France that afternoon, he graciously offered to waive all duties, and sprang the Ric free.
The next morning at CDG, the French customs officers barely glanced at me.
