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Pretty Please - add it to our Events forum(s) and add to the calendar! >> 
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Never had a 510 but we loved our 210 - served us very well for many years and was something a AF three-stripper could afford.
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Drove the Midget Down to Christianburg,VA Today
- Thread starter AngliaGT
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Wife’s sister had a 210 and I worked on a few 510s back in the day.
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Done! Thanks
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had to read that twice.
In 1974 we took the train across Canada to visit the relatives in Vancouver for three weeks. My oldest cousin - probably 5 or so years older was shopping for a 510 and we spent many evening searching the newspaper ads and going to look. I still recall a baby blue one in lovely shape that was sold out from under him - funny I can close my eyes and see it.
It was a special trip - my aunt and uncle had a '65 Chevy Impala wagon and cruising in the back with older cousins was heady stuff for a 13 year old lad like me.
And we listened to this
and this
and I had never heard of a thing called Chrisitan Rock Music - my relatives had this album
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No no ever heard of them - interesting covers though - Phil Keaggy is Christian Contemporary music royalty - it's weird. It was very exciting and important to know such a thing as Contemporary Christian Music existed but I never really got into it in a big way - partly I think because a lot of it was pretty banal. And growing up in Belleville Ontario - while having a guitar and drums in church was not unheard of - it was rare and not a ton of good stuff.
Moving from the sublime to the ridiculous and in honour of this forum's ability to go off the rails instantly, I present one of my favourite (related) jokes:
An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. “Well,” said the farmer, “it was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns.”
“Praise choruses?” said his wife. “What are those?”
“Oh, they’re OK. They are sort of like hymns, only different,” said the farmer.
“Well, what’s the difference?” asked his wife.
The farmer said, “Well, it’s like this – If I were to say to you “Martha, the cows are in the corn”’ – well, that would be a hymn. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:
Martha, Martha, Martha, Oh Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA, the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows, the white cows, the black and white cows, the COWS, COWS, COWS are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn, the CORN, CORN, CORN.
Then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well, that would be a praise chorus.”
The next weekend, his nephew, a young, new Christian from the city came to visit and attended the local church of the small town. He went home and his wife asked him how it was. “Well,” said the young man, “it was good. They did something different however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs.” “Hymns?” asked his wife. “What are those?” “Oh, they’re OK. They are sort of like regular songs, only different,” said the young man.“Well, what’s the difference?”
The young man said, “Well, it’s like this – If I were to say to you ‘Martha, the cows are in the corn’ – well, that would be a regular song. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:
‘Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.
‘For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense
Hearkenest they in God’s sun or His rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.
‘Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed Then goaded by minions of darkness and night They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.
‘So look to the bright shining day by and by Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn Where no vicious animals make my soul cry And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.’
Then if I were to do only verses one, three and four and do a key change on the last verse, well that would be a hymn.
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Banal is a good descriptor. It struck me as weird when I learned of Keaggy's "transition." I was a "townie" at G.O.T.L. from age six through my early twenties during the summers. It's a summer vacation destination for much of western PA and east-central Ohio. Grew up with the locals and knew all the business owners in town. The groups playing in the different clubs/pubs/bars would be out-and-about during the day and we got to know them as well... Phil was no angel, it was the sixties.
Someplace I've photos of the different bands, the "Go-go dancers" and crowds on the streets at night. The place was a carnival three months of the year.