On a quest to find a guitar pedal I’d read about called the “Endless Sky.” It creates large ambient washes and textures from playing only one note on the guitar. Features a cowboy boot on the hand-painted graphic with lazy clouds around the six dials and three foot switches. One knob is labeled “reality fade,” the rest I don’t recall. Driving a desolate dusty oceanfront road, and come upon the pedal’s graphic on a supertall sign for a roadside-burger-shack-sized store on the ocean side of the road. Pull in.
Parking lot is dirt. Ocean breaks and foams over huge boulders behind the store (the vibe is El Rey de Pescado in Naiguata, Venezuela). Several sprays from crashing waves threaten to envelop the store, but the age of the small building conveys that it’s held the sea back for a long time, and a quiet serenity about the place gathers as I approach.
As I’m walking up to the store I feel like my thighs are really rubbing together. Looking down, I discover that my thighs have not ballooned, but rather, my pants have turned into Renaissance royalty red-velvet gold-seamed pantaloons.
Tattered screen door. Inside the store, there’s just a counter with four Endless Sky pedals sitting next to an analog cash register.
“One,” I say.
“You don’t want to try it first?” the proprietor asks me, without looking up from a yellowed newspaper.
“No need,” I say. “I know it’s perfect.” I look at the pedal and notice the brand.
“Thought this was a secret Strymon,” I say.
“Nope,” he says, still fixed on his paper, “it’s a Nemo. This is the only pedal they make.”
“Well well,” I say, “even better.”