GILLETTE — Wilson Restrepo may never have to buy another beer in Sturgis, South Dakota.

Standing inside the Area 59 workshop, staring down the open garage door and long flatbed trailer waiting outside, the thought alone of the task at hand that morning warranted a cold drink or two.

The future handshakes and offers to buy his drinks would soon come as the result of his work to create a tangible symbol of music as ubiquitous as sound itself while as idiosyncratic as the man who dreamed it into existence.

But before anyone was drinking anything that day, they had to find a way to move that 23-foot symbol of rock, roll and all that those two words have come to mean.

All 2,000 pounds of it.

Nearly a year from its original conception, the gigantic Warlock-styled electric guitar statue was complete.

And after his initial hope of having it displayed in Gillette as part of the Mayor’s Art Council Avenues of Art fell through, Wilson finally found it a home.

He contacted and brokered a deal to send his masterpiece somewhere its size, audacity and heavy metal spirit would be embraced: Buffalo Chip Campground in Sturgis, South Dakota, where a half-million or so bikers and rock music lovers flock each summer for the biggest motorcycle rally in the word.

“There’s nowhere else in America this guitar needs to be than at our spot,” said Robert Pandya, chief operating officer of Buffalo Chip.

It was just a matter of getting it there.

Wilson kicked into action as soon as Scott Azure, of Gillette, pulled up behind Area 59 in the chariot to take Wilson’s labor of love across the state border.

“Pedro!” he yelled.

Pedro Piedrahita, his son, perked up and appeared beside the statue, which was laid on its back and stretched across three rolling workbenches separating the guitar from the ground.

Wilson bantered in Spanish with his wife, Mary Luz Piedrahita, deliberating how to best roll the guitar that for months they had been too preoccupied with building to consider moving.

The dense, steel statue glided surprisingly well across the workshop floor, reaching the open sky and parking lot asphalt with only a few adjustments. From there, the question shifted to how to move the statue from its unconventional guitar stands to the trailer.

Clearly, a forklift would be needed. But, again: How?

The group of creators and purchasers, entrepreneurs and artists thought out loud the process of securing, loading and shipping the guitar, as if there were a prescribed manner to do so.

They packaged the statue with tape, small planks of wood and sheets of cardboard. The forklift, operated by Azure, meticulously wiggled into position.

Then it moved a little to the left. No, more to the right. Its forks tilted back. More, more, perfect. Hold steady. Try raising it. Wait, put it back. OK. Try again. Perfect.

Finding the center of gravity on a 23-foot, 2,000-pound guitar is as difficult as it sounds.

When the statue met the edge of the trailer, Wilson and Pedro hopped atop the flatbed, laying down railroad ties and guiding it safely, with their hands on the artwork they built together for one of the last times.

Saying farewell to that hunk of steel and craftsmanship came with a mix of emotions, albeit a lopsided mix.

“Sad? 1 percent,” Wilson said. “Happy? 99 percent.”

That’s because it was more of a “see you again” than a “goodbye.”

Like most people who first saw or heard about Wilson’s latest pet project, its eventual owners had one big question.

“At first it’s like, is it real?” Pandya said.

Needing to find somewhere to display their finished work, Wilson and Pedro had to consider where it would make the most sense, but also, where it deserved to be.

Where would it be appreciated, but also have enough room for it to stand? Where could it be appreciated, but also seen by the masses?

Buffalo Chip Campground, the center of the world’s biggest motorcycle rally and host to many iconic rock ‘n’ roll acts throughout the years, was the logical conclusion.

Pedro communicated between the two sides to reach an agreement. Unlike most business deals, the negotiation began with the assurance that the statue was indeed real. With that understanding, Pandya and Rod “Woody” Woodruff, owner and president of Buffalo Chip, pulled the trigger and bought the newest, biggest centerpiece for their music and motorcycle playground.

“People have big dreams, not many people follow up on them,” Woodruff said. “And Wilson has, apparently, lots of them.”

They plan to unveil Wilson’s work this summer during the annual motorcycle rally that draws hundreds of thousands of people to the region, many of whom pass through Buffalo Chip.

They have an idea of how and when they will unveil their latest acquisition, but like all great reveals, they prefer to keep the suspense and mystery high until the moment comes.

“We are planning on doing it in an interesting way and having it be part of everything that’s Buffalo Chip for years to come,” Pandya said. “It’s going to last forever.”

The statue is finished. So is the process of relocating it. But Wilson isn’t.

Just as the steel monstrosity existed in his mind while he completed other projects, more ideas have filled the creative void left in the statue’s wake.

That morning, with arguably his greatest creation to date waiting to leave, he already had an idea of what to start on next.

Wilson tapped the side of his head and his eyes looked off into the distance, seeing into his own mind.

“Everything is here,” he said.

Having already built a giant guitar, Wilson said his next project may involve building an even bigger statue of a motorcycle. A chopper, to be more specific. One that is about 30 to 40 feet long and taller than he could reach his hand when trying to gesture the height of it.

Could that even be done?

“He can,” Mary Luz said.

Those closest to Wilson have seen him turn thoughts to reality enough times to know better than to question his vision.

Whether it’s building a guitar so big it had to be seen to be believed, or somehow willing it onto display at one of the only music venues fitting of its rock ‘n’ roll essence.

Wilson imagines and makes things. Then he makes things happen. How does he do it? Just as those closest to him know better than to question it, they also know better than to try and understand.

“I don’t know how he’s going to do it,” Pedro said. “If he can build this though, he can build anything.”