Vaporstang
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Bittersweet sending a daughter or son away to college - nice story!
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"Carl's Lounge" (Off-Topic Discussion, Traditional Knife "Tales & Vignettes")
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silenthunterstudios
Slipjoint Addict
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Well, one good thing about this weekend filled with my uncle's viewing Sunday and funeral yesterday (I think the Polish and Lithuanians do a wake just as well as the Irish), I went to a knife show at the Bill Moran museum. I couldn't get my behind out of bed Saturday morning, went to work for four hours and then went for the tail end of the show. I got there when everyone was cleaning up, but a buddy of mine, Ron, took me on a tour of the museum, formerly Bills shop. Knife nut mecca! I took lots of pics with my iphone, I will try to post them here, I don't have a photo bucket account.
I was also able to get a My First Victorinox for my cousin at the knife shop near Bills museum, he'll be 8 in October. Supervised use to be sure, but his father loves the outdoors (my older cousin). The young man told my other cousin, at my uncles funeral, that he didn't like that everyone was so sad that his "poppy" was gone, his poppy would've liked to have seen everyone happy. Which is the truth. The photo slides of my uncle at the funeral, he was smiling in every single one. It wasn't smiling for the pictures, he was that happy! Especially with his grandchildren. There was a picture of him asleep with a big smile on his face. The picture of him and my father, my pop with a beer and my uncle with his scotch, was just one of the great photos. Tons of old photos, him in the Army, him in college. I miss him.
Please pray for my aunt. After my father and his brothers big brother passed away at age 7, my aunt and my fathers oldest brother really stepped up, and took care of my father and his little brother, my godfather. My uncle, my aunt's husband, not only married into the family, but he became as much as a part of the family as my aunt, father or other uncles. They lost a sibling, not a brother in law.
I was also able to get a My First Victorinox for my cousin at the knife shop near Bills museum, he'll be 8 in October. Supervised use to be sure, but his father loves the outdoors (my older cousin). The young man told my other cousin, at my uncles funeral, that he didn't like that everyone was so sad that his "poppy" was gone, his poppy would've liked to have seen everyone happy. Which is the truth. The photo slides of my uncle at the funeral, he was smiling in every single one. It wasn't smiling for the pictures, he was that happy! Especially with his grandchildren. There was a picture of him asleep with a big smile on his face. The picture of him and my father, my pop with a beer and my uncle with his scotch, was just one of the great photos. Tons of old photos, him in the Army, him in college. I miss him.
Please pray for my aunt. After my father and his brothers big brother passed away at age 7, my aunt and my fathers oldest brother really stepped up, and took care of my father and his little brother, my godfather. My uncle, my aunt's husband, not only married into the family, but he became as much as a part of the family as my aunt, father or other uncles. They lost a sibling, not a brother in law.
Sorry for your loss, shs. Your uncle seems like a great person who did for others--like the kind who would fit in well with the Porch group. Sounds like all your extended family appreciated and admired him. I'll keep positive thoughts and prayers for your aunt.
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Excellent job on the restoration, Duncan! The knife looks really super, and the way you reprofiled the sheepfoot blade looks like it was intended to be built that way.:thumbup:
Campbellclanman
Platinum Member
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Thank you my friend. 👍
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Alrighty, I promised to tell you the story of the great train robbery so here goes...
Back in the early 80s my mom was startin' a junkyard in NEPA so I spent a lot of time goin' to insurance auctions and city auctions where ya needed a picture ID for the particular auction you were at. Not like today where 200 people show up for a dozen cars and anybody can bid. These were professionals who knew the value of a vehicle and would never get caught in a bidding war over a vehicle worth substantially less than they're bidding.
So here I was 19 years old in Queens across from Shea Stadium by the railroad yards at a city vehicle auction where they were auctionin' of 40 Ford Econoline vans used by Dept. Of Public Works. These were pretty abused vans and we lost interest rather quickly and decided to explore the rest of the unfenced yard.
Towards the back of the lot there were train tracks and old passenger/subway cars so we went as most 19 year olds would, adventuring. We looked at a few cars and checked out the graffiti when we decided to go into one of the cars. When we got inside it was immediately apparent that people were living in the subway car. There were old mattresses and blankets with makeshift furniture made from boxes and pallets. The car was empty of people except for us and that just seemed weird, where the heck were the people who lived there?
I looked at my 2 buddies and started to point out the surroundings when I could see they were quickly becoming uncomfortable so we all decided to leave and get back to the auction where my other friend was, (he stayed behind because he had a bad feelin' about goin' in the back of the lot). So as we start to exit I noticed that there was a scruffy lookin' ratty dressed dirty unshaven guy standin' outside the car starin' me down and pointin' a .38 cal revolver at me through the window so I carefully headed towards door.
As I head for the door it becomes apparent that he hasn't seen my friends and was focused on me. Havin' watched way too much TV in the 70s I figured since he hadn't noticed my friends if I could get his back to the door and my friends would jump him and we'd run. No, instead they walked into him with their hands up and almost knocked him over.
With all 3 of us in front of him I'm wonderin' what I could say to this guy whose home we just came out of when I notice he has a walkie talkie and a few seconds later a box truck pulls in back and we get loaded in back. It's about that time I realize he worked for the salvage yard we were at, (well him tellin' the guy on the other walkie talkie to call the police was a big hint
). So we sat in back till the police showed up waitin' and not sayin' much of anything, what do you say to a crazy guy with a gun pointin' at you? Absolutely nothin' especially when you're afraid of him havin' a nervous trigger finger.
Now the cops arrive within 10 minutes, BTW the longest 10 minutes of my life and they take over. I had no idea of what I was bein' arrested for I was just happy I hadn't been shot. So after bein' read our rights and bein' searched we were loaded into a prisoner transport van and took to one of the the Queens precincts where for the first time we were told what the charge was.... Da da da daa!!! Attempted train robbery, we were bein' charged with tryin' to steal the entire train.
We explained to the cops what happened and why we were where we were. The one cop actually went back to verify our claims that there was no signs or fences seperatin' the yards from each other. As it turned out the train yard and the city yard were two different properties owned by different people. The cop told us that the yard had just been robbed for the 2nd time in a month where people were stealin' the wheels and sellin' them for scrap metal.
The cops ran some warrant checks on us and looked for any priors after we came back clean and the fact that the yard had no fence or sign he changed the charge to trespassin' and released us 4 hours later on our own recognizance, they even gave us a ride back to the auction yard where our one friend who didn't come adventurin' with us was still waitin' not havin' any idea where we were he waited and we were glad he did.
In the end we had to take a day of from work for court. So the bill so far...
$50 in fines,
loss of a day's pay $100,
plus the cost of goin' back to the city to go to court, figure another $30 in tolls, gas and lunch.
Bein' able to say I got arrested for train robbery... PRICELESS
Hope you enjoyed my tale.
Back in the early 80s my mom was startin' a junkyard in NEPA so I spent a lot of time goin' to insurance auctions and city auctions where ya needed a picture ID for the particular auction you were at. Not like today where 200 people show up for a dozen cars and anybody can bid. These were professionals who knew the value of a vehicle and would never get caught in a bidding war over a vehicle worth substantially less than they're bidding.
So here I was 19 years old in Queens across from Shea Stadium by the railroad yards at a city vehicle auction where they were auctionin' of 40 Ford Econoline vans used by Dept. Of Public Works. These were pretty abused vans and we lost interest rather quickly and decided to explore the rest of the unfenced yard.
Towards the back of the lot there were train tracks and old passenger/subway cars so we went as most 19 year olds would, adventuring. We looked at a few cars and checked out the graffiti when we decided to go into one of the cars. When we got inside it was immediately apparent that people were living in the subway car. There were old mattresses and blankets with makeshift furniture made from boxes and pallets. The car was empty of people except for us and that just seemed weird, where the heck were the people who lived there?
I looked at my 2 buddies and started to point out the surroundings when I could see they were quickly becoming uncomfortable so we all decided to leave and get back to the auction where my other friend was, (he stayed behind because he had a bad feelin' about goin' in the back of the lot). So as we start to exit I noticed that there was a scruffy lookin' ratty dressed dirty unshaven guy standin' outside the car starin' me down and pointin' a .38 cal revolver at me through the window so I carefully headed towards door.
As I head for the door it becomes apparent that he hasn't seen my friends and was focused on me. Havin' watched way too much TV in the 70s I figured since he hadn't noticed my friends if I could get his back to the door and my friends would jump him and we'd run. No, instead they walked into him with their hands up and almost knocked him over.
With all 3 of us in front of him I'm wonderin' what I could say to this guy whose home we just came out of when I notice he has a walkie talkie and a few seconds later a box truck pulls in back and we get loaded in back. It's about that time I realize he worked for the salvage yard we were at, (well him tellin' the guy on the other walkie talkie to call the police was a big hint
). So we sat in back till the police showed up waitin' and not sayin' much of anything, what do you say to a crazy guy with a gun pointin' at you? Absolutely nothin' especially when you're afraid of him havin' a nervous trigger finger. Now the cops arrive within 10 minutes, BTW the longest 10 minutes of my life and they take over. I had no idea of what I was bein' arrested for I was just happy I hadn't been shot. So after bein' read our rights and bein' searched we were loaded into a prisoner transport van and took to one of the the Queens precincts where for the first time we were told what the charge was.... Da da da daa!!! Attempted train robbery, we were bein' charged with tryin' to steal the entire train.
We explained to the cops what happened and why we were where we were. The one cop actually went back to verify our claims that there was no signs or fences seperatin' the yards from each other. As it turned out the train yard and the city yard were two different properties owned by different people. The cop told us that the yard had just been robbed for the 2nd time in a month where people were stealin' the wheels and sellin' them for scrap metal.
The cops ran some warrant checks on us and looked for any priors after we came back clean and the fact that the yard had no fence or sign he changed the charge to trespassin' and released us 4 hours later on our own recognizance, they even gave us a ride back to the auction yard where our one friend who didn't come adventurin' with us was still waitin' not havin' any idea where we were he waited and we were glad he did.
In the end we had to take a day of from work for court. So the bill so far...
$50 in fines,
loss of a day's pay $100,
plus the cost of goin' back to the city to go to court, figure another $30 in tolls, gas and lunch.
Bein' able to say I got arrested for train robbery... PRICELESS
Hope you enjoyed my tale.
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- 10,339
Alrighty, I promised to tell you the story of the great train robbery so here goes...
...
Bein' able to say I got arrested for train robbery... PRICELESS
Hope you enjoyed my tale.
great story, your location makes so much more sense now!!!
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- Dec 2, 2005
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- 71,218
Cracking story Ted! Thanks for telling it :thumbup:
Thanks for telling it :thumbup:
5K Qs
Gold Member
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- Jul 20, 2014
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- 15,853
Thanks for the story, Ted! :thumbup:
I was expecting an interesting yarn, but it was way better than I expected!
- GT
I was expecting an interesting yarn, but it was way better than I expected!
And this comment from mrknife (about "Factory of bad ideas" I assume) made me laugh out loud in an empty kitchen!
- GT
silenthunterstudios
Slipjoint Addict
- Joined
- Feb 2, 2005
- Messages
- 20,039
Alrighty, I promised to tell you the story of the great train robbery so here goes...
Back in the early 80s my mom was startin' a junkyard in NEPA so I spent a lot of time goin' to insurance auctions and city auctions where ya needed a picture ID for the particular auction you were at. Not like today where 200 people show up for a dozen cars and anybody can bid. These were professionals who knew the value of a vehicle and would never get caught in a bidding war over a vehicle worth substantially less than they're bidding.
So here I was 19 years old in Queens across from Shea Stadium by the railroad yards at a city vehicle auction where they were auctionin' of 40 Ford Econoline vans used by Dept. Of Public Works. These were pretty abused vans and we lost interest rather quickly and decided to explore the rest of the unfenced yard.
Towards the back of the lot there were train tracks and old passenger/subway cars so we went as most 19 year olds would, adventuring. We looked at a few cars and checked out the graffiti when we decided to go into one of the cars. When we got inside it was immediately apparent that people were living in the subway car. There were old mattresses and blankets with makeshift furniture made from boxes and pallets. The car was empty of people except for us and that just seemed weird, where the heck were the people who lived there?
I looked at my 2 buddies and started to point out the surroundings when I could see they were quickly becoming uncomfortable so we all decided to leave and get back to the auction where my other friend was, (he stayed behind because he had a bad feelin' about goin' in the back of the lot). So as we start to exit I noticed that there was a scruffy lookin' ratty dressed dirty unshaven guy standin' outside the car starin' me down and pointin' a .38 cal revolver at me through the window so I carefully headed towards door.
As I head for the door it becomes apparent that he hasn't seen my friends and was focused on me. Havin' watched way too much TV in the 70s I figured since he hadn't noticed my friends if I could get his back to the door and my friends would jump him and we'd run. No, instead they walked into him with their hands up and almost knocked him over.
With all 3 of us in front of him I'm wonderin' what I could say to this guy whose home we just came out of when I notice he has a walkie talkie and a few seconds later a box truck pulls in back and we get loaded in back. It's about that time I realize he worked for the salvage yard we were at, (well him tellin' the guy on the other walkie talkie to call the police was a big hint
Now the cops arrive within 10 minutes, BTW the longest 10 minutes of my life and they take over. I had no idea of what I was bein' arrested for I was just happy I hadn't been shot. So after bein' read our rights and bein' searched we were loaded into a prisoner transport van and took to one of the the Queens precincts where for the first time we were told what the charge was.... Da da da daa!!! Attempted train robbery, we were bein' charged with tryin' to steal the entire train.
We explained to the cops what happened and why we were where we were. The one cop actually went back to verify our claims that there was no signs or fences seperatin' the yards from each other. As it turned out the train yard and the city yard were two different properties owned by different people. The cop told us that the yard had just been robbed for the 2nd time in a month where people were stealin' the wheels and sellin' them for scrap metal.
The cops ran some warrant checks on us and looked for any priors after we came back clean and the fact that the yard had no fence or sign he changed the charge to trespassin' and released us 4 hours later on our own recognizance, they even gave us a ride back to the auction yard where our one friend who didn't come adventurin' with us was still waitin' not havin' any idea where we were he waited and we were glad he did.
In the end we had to take a day of from work for court. So the bill so far...
$50 in fines,
loss of a day's pay $100,
plus the cost of goin' back to the city to go to court, figure another $30 in tolls, gas and lunch.
Bein' able to say I got arrested for train robbery... PRICELESS
Hope you enjoyed my tale.
Ted, I'm definitely driving to the Easton show, just to buy you a couple beers and hear some tales at the bar. That is great. Undercover hobo...
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Ted, that is an interesting story!
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- 32,359
Remind me to tell you about the time I tried to teach my wife to pop start a car with a manual transmission, I was able to teach her how to drive a clutch but teachin' her to pop start a car almost killed us.
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Hey Ted, why don't you tell us about the time you were trying to teach your wife to "pop start" a car?
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Some of you know that I work IT for a hospice, so I encounter a lot of medical personell to handle close to 600 patients. And, one of our doctors is the epitome of an old country doctor. So much so that a few of weeks ago when I went to the break room to get some coffee, he was standing there in boots, overalls and a straw hat. This man in his early to mid sixties looked like he was dressed to go to work in a cornfield instead of caring for patients all day. Standing there pouring his coffee, he reminded me of my maternal grandfather who got up every day to tend his stock and field dressed just like that. Granddad whas the one who instilled the love I have for Barlow knives so much so I can't think of him without thinking of a Barlow and vice versa.
"Doc," I said, "you look like a man that should have a Barlow in his pocket." He chuckled and said, "Yeah, I don't have a Barlow. I just have this old thing I inherited from dad when he passed a few years ago". He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small steel framed lockback with yellow inserts for covers and handed it to me. It was scratched upall over and had seen heavy use but it wasn't abused. Opening it was easy and smooth as silk with the lock giving an authoratative click when it engaged. The blade was almost as scratched as the steel frame that surrounded the yellow inserts on either side of the handle. It wieghed more than I expected it to but was not off putting due to extraordinary balance. Not a single gap anywhere, and it felt as solid as a fixed blade when open. I could see and feel there was something special about this well used unattractive (to me) little knife, and then I saw it and understood. Etched on the tang was four simple little block letters "LILE".
My jaw dropped. My eyes bugged out. I looKed at Doc, looked at the knife, looked at Doc again, looked at the knife again. "Doc, is this a... Do you know what you have here?" I stammered. " I didn't know what it was for some time after my dad passed away. Then one day, going through his stuff I opened it and though I might want to keep it after I saw the name." He then told me that his dad had been a hand surgeon and that Jimmy Lile had come to him many years ago after an injury to his hand. The old surgeon must have done a good job as Jimmy Lile himself gifted the knife to the man that fixed his hand.
Jimmy Lile is a legend here in Arkansas and has been gone for 25 years now, but his work is still very significant. To those who admire his work, he was so much more than the knives he made for the Rambo movies. Doc knows his scarred up little knife is priceless, not just because of the name on the tang, but also how he came by it. His dad helped keep a legendary bladesmith working.
Oh, and those handle inserts... those are ivory stained yellow by the hands of a surgeon.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Lile
http://www.jimmylile.com/
"Doc," I said, "you look like a man that should have a Barlow in his pocket." He chuckled and said, "Yeah, I don't have a Barlow. I just have this old thing I inherited from dad when he passed a few years ago". He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small steel framed lockback with yellow inserts for covers and handed it to me. It was scratched upall over and had seen heavy use but it wasn't abused. Opening it was easy and smooth as silk with the lock giving an authoratative click when it engaged. The blade was almost as scratched as the steel frame that surrounded the yellow inserts on either side of the handle. It wieghed more than I expected it to but was not off putting due to extraordinary balance. Not a single gap anywhere, and it felt as solid as a fixed blade when open. I could see and feel there was something special about this well used unattractive (to me) little knife, and then I saw it and understood. Etched on the tang was four simple little block letters "LILE".
My jaw dropped. My eyes bugged out. I looKed at Doc, looked at the knife, looked at Doc again, looked at the knife again. "Doc, is this a... Do you know what you have here?" I stammered. " I didn't know what it was for some time after my dad passed away. Then one day, going through his stuff I opened it and though I might want to keep it after I saw the name." He then told me that his dad had been a hand surgeon and that Jimmy Lile had come to him many years ago after an injury to his hand. The old surgeon must have done a good job as Jimmy Lile himself gifted the knife to the man that fixed his hand.
Jimmy Lile is a legend here in Arkansas and has been gone for 25 years now, but his work is still very significant. To those who admire his work, he was so much more than the knives he made for the Rambo movies. Doc knows his scarred up little knife is priceless, not just because of the name on the tang, but also how he came by it. His dad helped keep a legendary bladesmith working.
Oh, and those handle inserts... those are ivory stained yellow by the hands of a surgeon.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Lile
http://www.jimmylile.com/
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