I was 17 when my mother finally gave into the harassment and allowed me to buy a guitar. With my own money! The old man, who never let me do anything, finally racked off with his with current girlfriend. I used my slim savings on a cheap nylon string guitar scored in a pawn shop at the Adelaide markets. The guitar was terrible, so was I and no great loss when the brother completely demolished it in one of his frequent rages.
For the next few years I bummed around the country. No guitar or a corner to put it in, until I hit Queensland and scored myself a reasonable if unmemorable Japanese six string acoustic.
Go to Dead Hero Records for the full rave.