My name is David Fite and I am the lead guitarist in a rock band called Octalux.We were headed to a showcase for a booking agency in Cincinnati, Ohio and we had recently hired some roadies to lug all our gear for us. Like all struggling indie bands, we have a very old, very smelly van to haul our gear from show to show. The roadies had loaded the Tank with all our gear and we departed Lexington, KY for the show. Unknown to me, one of the rookie roadies had crammed my beloved tube amp, which I paid over $1500 for and have treated with ultimate TLC for many years, into the Tank right at the back of the van against the back door. Standing on end, no less! That is just wrong in so many ways. I never, ever set my baby down any way except upright and flat, even when it’s nestled safely in it’s permanent home, my Gator G-Tour Amp Head Transporter. Needless to say, had I known what the rookie had done, I would have corrected the situation immediately, but I had no clue. We set off for Cincy, roadies, band, support crew, friends and fans in one long caravan. The roadies were the first to pull into the loading area where we were to enter the bowels of the arena where we would be performing that night. To my utter shock, my band mates and I rolled up just in time to see one of our roadies open the back door of the van and I watched in horror as my precious amp head toppled out the back door of the Tank and landed top first on the pavement with a thud. My heart sank as my blood boiled within me. I jumped out of the car and ran to check the status of my baby. The roadie who had opened the door and allowed it to plummet to the ground took a few quick steps back when he saw the look in my eyes as I approached the van. I carefully flipped my Gator over, and to my ultimate surprise, it didn’t have a scratch on it. That was heartening, but at the moment I was much more concerned with internal, not external, damage. I opened the butterfly locks, lifted off the cover and held my breath as I surveyed the condition of my amp head. Everything seemed to be in order, but the acid test would come later when we had all our gear on stage and I would be able to plug it in and check to see if she still made sweet music. I cased up the head again and carried it inside myself, obviously no longer trusting the roadies! After we had loaded in and set up for a sound check, I crossed my fingers and fired up my old friend. She sounded like butter, just as she always had for me! The show was a great success and we moved on to the next stop on the tour, minus a couple of roadies! In the end, it comes down to this; roadies will come and go and I don’t trust a single one of them, but I will always trust my Gator! Thanks Gator Cases! You don’t know it, but you saved a roadie’s life that night!