Hey, pretty cool way to solve a not so simple problem; you keep that kinda stuff up and you can add "luthier" to your resume (if you haven't already :=)
I CAUSED a sorta similar problem for myself with the first guitar I ever owned - stationed in Massachusetts in 1966, not quite 21 years old, makin' serious coin (no, really) as a private in the Army Security Agency. By "coin" I mean $55.20 a MONTH, + another $40 for "separate rations" for my new wife - living off base, paying about half of that in rent, we both ended up working part time jobs in a nearby stereo manufacturing plant - we literally kept a budget counted to the penny -
Landlord's sister lived in one of the apartments next to ours, she had this old Harmony guitar she never played, so she loaned it to me - intonation was fair, strings were so high at the 12th fret you coulda jumped off one and successfully committed suicide by fret board

Since the least painful place to play the loaner was near the nut, I started learning MY version of Malaguenia (my older sister useta play it on the piano) - Got it going enough to sound kinda like I knew what I was doing...
But that wasn't the guitar I bought; the bulletin board at the stereo place had an ad from the local music store; employees could get a 20% discount there - Due to the previous couple months of serious penny pinching, working a few saturdays, we had a HUGE nest egg of $50...
So one Saturday we hopped on our only transpo (Honda 350 bike, another scrimp & save project) rode up the freeway to Maynard, Mass, couple of my guitar playing buddies had armed me with a list of things to check - we walk into this music store; my wife is from Santa Cruz Calif - turns out the store OWNER (Pete) is from there (not sure why he was in Mass) so the two of them get into their own BS session, I spot 4 "identical" classical guitars on the wall, marked $50...
I interrupt their BS, ask Pete if I can see the first of the 4 - he hands it to me, I sit down and start checking tuning, frets vs harmonics, etc; it fails, I ask him to see the next one; turns out he was a clarinet player. He says "why, they're the same", I say no they're not, so I check #2, then #3, and finally #4 actually PASSES -
Pete and wifey still BS'ing, I start messing around playing my "one song", really gettin' into it considering the new-found lack of PAIN - pretty soon I overhear Pete ask my wife how long I'd been playing, heard her say "about a month" - then it got real quiet - I look up, and Pete's looking like he just saw a ghost or something
So we gave him $40 (20% discount) took the guitar, wife on the back of the bike holding it, and back down the freeway home - neither of us told Pete that was the ONLY song I knew, kinda wonder if that was a little bit mean...
But that's not what I came here to talk about (another Alice's Restaurant fan here :=)
That first guitar was a Tatra 1, made in Czechoslovakia - so cheap the fingerboard was PAINTED BLACK, tryin' to look like Ebony no doubt - after a while I got tired of the nylon string sound, and
(still knowing EVERYTHING like when I wuz 14) I decided to put some flat wound steel strings on it - sounded completely different, played it for a couple hours then hung it on the wall and went to bed...
Woke up the next morning and found the bridge
RIPPED OUT BY THE ROOTS, and dangling near the neck/body joint
After some thought (and more than a few GI quality expletives) I found some 2 part epoxy stuff in town, looked kinda like grape juice and flour, supposed to be bullet proof if ya follow the directions - the tear out was pretty bumpy, but I found that a little razor blade work would let the two halves go back together, totally meshed, and nearly invisible - so I set up a table, grabbed 3-4 encyclopedias, mixed the epoxy, worked the pieces back together, set the books on top and FORGOT about it for several days.
That was the LAST time that guitar saw anything but nylon strings; it's still together, (
55 YEARS now) still plays fine, just took it out of its case today.
Guess it's true that God watches over children and fools... Steve