I'd love to say that I've never carried or needed a 'modern' one hand knife, but I have. Some well meaning but misguided family gave me one, the one with the hole in the blade for easy opening, on the belief that "Uncle Carl likes knives, lets give him a new one!" On receiving it, I smiled and thanked them, clipped it in my pocket and carried it until they left town and went home. The darn clip got plucked by seat belts, bushes, and was generally in the way while trying to actually use the knife as a cutting tool. The clip on the handle was a hindrance while trying to grip the knife in some positions.
But most of all, it was a very limited tool and one trick pony. Starting out life with a boy scout knife, and going to patterns like the stockman, barlow, and small jacks like even the peanut, I was used to having multiple blades on hand. Even a two bladed knife was way ahead, having that spare blade to use on stuff that you just know for certain that is going to mess up your edge. I was too used to having a rough use sharpened blade as well as a 'sharp' blade for real cutting.
I tried to like the knife, I really did. But it just got in the way so much, I chucked it in the sock drawer for good. I never understood how people carry them, because I found once the darned things was clipped in a pocket, then sticking my hand in the pocket for anything else that I may have there the clipped knife was in the way in a very annoying way. More than once, I went to take out my bandana and it snagged and dumped the clipped folder on the ground. At least my traditional folder is way down in the bottom of my pocket out of the way and secure from any seat belt snagging.
I'm an old man now, and I admit I was close to senior citizen age when I got my "tactical" fast draw knife. But in spite of living a very unsheltered life, and being in some very dodgy areas, I've never needed a knife for the purpose of self defense. I've prowled the Arab markets in Libya when we were doing some TDY duty at Wheelus Air Force base in the late 60's, back streets in Saigon where I should not have been, definitely been in shady places in my native Washington D.C. that looking back I think "What the hell was I doing???", but somehow a knife never figured into it. In my young and dumb days before I met Karen and became civilized, I was in too many cheap gin mills and back room misadventures. Sure I got a few broken teeth and a nose that isn't quite the same shape God me on birth. But I never needed a knife. There was always a bar stool, heavy ashtray, pool stick, pool ball, beer pitcher, beer mug, trash can, fire extinguisher, broom stick, creasent wrench around that was handy.
It's only my opinion, and that plus a dollar sixteen will get me a medium coffee at 7-11, but I really think the unspoken reason for the wave of popularity of the 'modern' knife is too many young guys grew up with a sheltered life, no father or mentor on scene, and never learned how to take care of themselves. I see way too many posts in the general forum of carrying a knife in case "Somebody gets on me". I think the gorilla in the room that nobody addresses is, too many young guys carrying some over hyped knife to boost their low self confidence. They have no idea what to do if push comes to shove.
I think I looked to my dad and his generation for guidance in my formative years, and they scorned a knife other than a modest two blade jack of some kind. I remember when I was a teenage and it was the James Dean era. I was leaning towards a switchblade and when I said something, it was so derided by Dad, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Mike, and others I took their advise. Somehow, it made an impression on me that these men I knew well, had lived through a great depression, fought a world war, came home and did a job everyday in the trades and raised families and were living the good life. They must have known something. Uncle Charlie made a huge impression a young me when he made a statement I'll never forget. He was a good likeness of Walt Kowalski, and even had a bit of a gruff voice. He held up his beat up old TL-29 and said, "Hell kid, I got my feet wet at Normandy and walked almost all the way to Berlin, and never needed more than this!"
I guess I'll be using a slip joint until the day I die.
