If at first you don’t succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.

Unfortunately, it’s incredibly difficult to destroy a guitar.

It’s not that I tried guitar, per se. I tried one song.

Every few years, I get it into my head that I would like to learn how to play “Johnny B. Goode.”

Forget the fact that you can play millions of tunes on the guitar.

Forget the warm and cozy image of singing camp songs around a crackling fire with the mellow notes of an acoustic floating through the air.

Forget everything except that awesome scene in “Back to the Future” where Marty McFly impresses the heck out of the class of 1955.

I want to play “Johnny B. Goode.” Only “Johnny B. Goode.” No other song except for “Johnny B. Goode.”

And every few years, I blow the dust off my ¾-size acoustic, restring the strings, and learn the first 20 notes.

Only the first 20 notes.

Right around “Go, go, go Johnny, go, go” is where I always fail. I can’t make my fingers move fast enough to match the metronome.

This year, I decided that was it. I’d had enough of trying and failing to play Chuck Berry’s masterpiece. So I decided to destroy my guitar.

But destroying a guitar is a lot harder than expected.

First, it’s carefully crafted by a skilled luthier. It takes a certain force of will to destroy the beautiful product of an artisan’s hands.

Second, it’s built of pretty solid wood. I once built a guitar out of cardboard and rubber bands, and that thing collapsed like a card tower when I accidentally sat on it.

This guitar, even though it’s ¾-size, is a lot more robust than the cardboard one.

Third, just as I was about to whack it against the plush carpeting of my bedroom, I felt a pang of nostalgia for the silly old instrument.

This was the guitar I had played a fraction of “Johnny B. Goode” on, for goodness’ sakes.

This is the guitar that sat nobly by my bed, gathering dust, as I tried other hobbies like crocheting and harmonica.

This is the guitar I always came back to, always trying and failing to master one simple—all right, not so simple—rock ‘n roll song.

So I slowly put the strings back on. And I propped the guitar by my bed, in the little divot that it’s made standing on my carpet for years and years.

And I left it there to gather dust. It’s too soon to pick it up again.

Maybe one day I’ll be dedicated enough to master “Johnny B. Goode.” That’s the day I’ll play it perfectly and impress all my friends, and when they ask me what other songs I know, I will truthfully say, “None whatsoever.”

I think the goal for me is to learn how to feign an interruption 19 notes into the song. That way, I can play perfectly and impress everyone right until I get drowned out by, oh, I don’t know, a toilet exploding.

I still haven’t discovered precisely in what way I want to be interrupted, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

Maybe I’ll get run over by a DeLorean.

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Copyright 2026 Alexandra Paskhaver, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she’s never quite; figured; it; out. For more information, check out her website at https://apaskhaver.github.io.