Many years ago I found and ad in our local paper saying "Five-string banjo in good condition, $200." I called the owner -who knew nothing about banjos- and he didn't know what it was so I drove up to his place to take a look.
Turned out to be a four-stringed banjo (tenor) with a neck that had been irreparably shattered at the heel (so much for "good condition") but it was a Tubaphone and the pot hardware was all there, so after a bit of haggling I bought it for $150 and eventually had Bart Reiter build me a neck with an eye to selling the results for a nice profit. It turned out to be a very nice banjo indeed, and it became my weapon of choice for almost twenty years; whereupon it was displaced by a Whyte Laydie that was louder and crisper and which worked better in ensemble than did the Tubaphone.
Since I wasn't using the Tubaphone much and had another one anyway I ended up selling it to a long time close friend and fellow clawhammer addict It became his primary instrument for quite a while, but every so often I thought about the banjo and decided about a year ago that I regretted selling it -even though it went to a good home.
Long story short, the banjo returned home to me yesterday and I've been playing it ever since. I can't think whatever possessed me to sell this thing in the first place.
It may not be as useful in a band context as is my Whyte Laydie, but there's something about this particular instrument that synchs with my playing style so tightly that it feels like an extension of my personality rather than something that I can put down and walk away from. It's as if the banjo and I got to know each other so well during that 20 years that we each know what the other is capable of and interact without thought.
Whatever happens from now on, this is going to be the banjo that they have to pry from my cold dead fingers when I eventually croak.
Welcome home, old friend!
~Pete