I had a band in Nashville in the early 80s, and we rocked, playing the best clubs there at the time. We e had started to play originals, and we needed to make some demos because record labels were starting to sign Nashville rock bands. So we finally got some free time at a studio at MTSU, 45 minutes away from there. I had a girlfriend who liked the horizontal bop as much as she liked breathing. So she and I were “occupied “ until I realized we were going to be late getting to the session. So we jumped in the car and raced there. The band was rightly angry at me. “Just plug in your bass and let’s get on with it,” someone growled. That’s when I realized that I’d forgotten my left handed Ric. The band wanted to kill me, and I knew they were right. Fortunately there was a righy Precision in the studio, and I played it well enough. It took a few weeks before we all laughed about it. I learned my lesson. But for the rest of the life of the band, they kidded me quite often, and each gig , someone would say, “Did you remember your bass, freak?”