My name is Greg Duncan and I have a little story that you might find interesting. At the age of twenty, I lived in Guelph, Ontario, where I shared a large brick house with, at times, up to twelve hippy rock musicians. The address was either 26 or 29 Oxford Street. I believe it was the summer of 1973 that I was sitting on a bench outside the Woolworth’s store. A young man sat down beside me. We introduced ourselves. The man said his name was Gary Armstrong. Because he was new in town and had no place to live, I invited him to stay at our place on Oxford Street--a proposition which was not unusual for the times. Gary accepted my invitation and we drove to the house in his big grey Buick Le Sabre. 

None of us at the house worked much. Our source of income was playing gigs at downtown Guelph bars. We spent many nights doing jam sessions in our large living room, on our front porch, or at downtown drop-in centres. Gary often spent his evenings jamming with his "folky" friends at the University of Guelph.

I was in awe when I first saw Gary’s guitar. It was a fancy Gibson (Humming Bird) acoustic guitar. There was a pearl inlay of a Humming Bird in the body of the guitar. The guitar case was covered with decals, most of which were Gibson and Fender decals from the music stores.

Gary fit right in with our crowd even though we considered him a "folky" and all of us were "rockers." We were all fond of him even though we regarded him as unusual. Gary was very quiet. His long sideburns were a source of amusement to us. His worn-out blue jeans with holes in the knees and ripped-out back pockets did not conform to our idea of appropriate dress. Gary often wore a red and white bandana which I thought was pretty cool. For the life of me I can’t recall if he wore the bandana around his head, arm, or leg.

I cherish the memories of his full-size, fully-loaded, silver-grey Buick Le Sabre. I remember there was a device that sat on the top of the dash which would detect the headlights of oncoming cars and automatically dim the Buick’s headlights from high to low beam. Aside from the intriguing appearance, guitar, and Buick of this mystery man who had entered our lives, I felt somehow enriched by Gary’s companionship, even though it was for such a short period. Of all the guys in the house, Gary and I were the closest. I remember how attentive he was when I told him my stories.

Two or three months went by. One day, Gary told me he would be moving on at the end of the week. First, however, he wanted to go to Zellers. We drove there in the Buick. Once there Gary said he wanted to buy a stereo for his friends at the house. I was reluctant for him to purchase a stereo and told him so because I did not think he could afford it. Nevertheless, he purchased it and gave it to me as a gift for everyone back at the house. The stereo had a BSA turntable and a smoky acrylic top which eventually got cracked when a guy and a girl were horsing around in the living room and fell on it. Gary also purchased a couple of Neil Young albums for everyone at the house. Not being my type of music, I said to Gary, "What are you buying that crap for?"

Later in the week Gary bid us goodbye. To my amazement he signed over the ownership of the Buick to me, gave me the keys, and had me drive him to the bus terminal. I always considered Gary’s gift of his Buick to me as one of the special moments in my life. After Gary had left, we realized that none of us knew where he was headed. Sadly, two months later, my wife (at that time) totaled both my beloved Buick and a taxi when she made a left turn on a red light.

Eventually, after drifting around, I ended up living in Fergus, Ontario. One night in our apartment, during the winter blizzard of 1977, my wife and I were having a drink with the other members of our band, "Hardluck." We were listening to a Neil Young album because our band had decided to play one of his songs. One of the guys exclaimed, "Greg! Look at the cover of this album. Isn’t this that guy "Gary" who gave you the Buick back in Guelph?"

To my amazement, the friend whom I had known as Gary Armstrong stared out at me from the cover of the Neil Young album. It was then I realized our mysterious friend was Neil Young.

as told to Les Sinclair. DEC 1997