The last machine shop I worked at, after my job with a big company went offshore, was a little hole in the wall place in Frederick Maryalnd. It was a giant step down on the ladder, but it was a job. To be honest, it was a lousy place to work, old machines, very little tooling, cheap owners. But the one good thing was I had some great co-workers. One was a long tall galloot named Darrel. He was an old country boy from up around Hancock Maryland, and was a motorcycle enthusiast to boot. Since I was commuting to work on my sportster, we hit it off well. Darrel had totally restored a 1966 Electraglide, and painted it creamsicle orange. A drop dead gorgious bike.
But at work his choice of pocket cutlery was way more pedestrian. In his watch pocket was a badly worn, but still servicable little Schrade Old Timer mighty mite. I don't know the model number, but it was the little job, maybe 2 3/4 inches closed, with a single blade that locked open with one of those old style brass liner locks like you see on a TL-29. I don't know how many years Darrel had carried and used that little knife, but the blade was about 40 to 50% worn away. It was starting to look like a lockblade awl, but Darrel being the old country boy he was, just kept on using it.
I'd good naturedly kid him about it once in a while, and he'd just grin. We used a knife a lot on the job, and I do have to admit the little worn mighty mite did the job. The round stock we used on the lathes came in bundles of 10 foot lengths, taped together at the ends and middle with that fiber strand reenforced plastic tape. Being from a steel supply, the bundles were greasy and filthy, and the tape of course picked up the greasy grit. To get the stock, we had to cut through the tape to free up the lengths of round stock, so we were cutting through sticky steel dust impregnated tape. Sharp edges didn't last long. When the truck dropped off a new supply of round stock, and we had to restock the material racks, there was always some knife sharpening afterwards. Darrel would take out a little pocket size carborundum stone from a drawer in his tool chest, and give the little Schrade a quick honing. The plain carbon steel of the Schrade took a quick edge.
Another thing about those old country boys like Darrel; once they find something that works for them, they won't switch. Not for all the tea in China. For better or for worse, Darrel loved that little Old Timer pattern, and would't change. I realized that, the day he showed up with a new knife.
He had cut some burrs off some delrin parts that he'd milled, and as he was wiping off his pocket knife, I thought the blade looked a little big. I asked him if h'e got a new knife, and he held out his hand. In the palm of that callused work knarled hand, was a brand new Schrade Old Timer might mite. It looked a little weird to see one with a full blade, both in width and length. I expressed some surprise that he would retire his old knife while there was a micron of steel left.
"Oh I didn't retire it. It's just been re-asigned duty stations." he replied, opening one of the small drawers on his machinest chest. There next to his callipers, lay the old mighty mite.
"It was gettin a mite thin in the blade, so I'm gonna use it as my dirty work knife." Darrel said.
Darrel was a country boy, and come deer season, don't look for him at work. He's already signed for the leave. Come spring, don't look for him either, He's off turkey huntin. But in the years I knew Darrel, I never saw him with any other knife but that little Old Timer mighty mite. Even when he went 'huntin'.
I guess like my dad with his peanut, Darrel found a pattern that baked his cookie, so he never switched.
But at work his choice of pocket cutlery was way more pedestrian. In his watch pocket was a badly worn, but still servicable little Schrade Old Timer mighty mite. I don't know the model number, but it was the little job, maybe 2 3/4 inches closed, with a single blade that locked open with one of those old style brass liner locks like you see on a TL-29. I don't know how many years Darrel had carried and used that little knife, but the blade was about 40 to 50% worn away. It was starting to look like a lockblade awl, but Darrel being the old country boy he was, just kept on using it.
I'd good naturedly kid him about it once in a while, and he'd just grin. We used a knife a lot on the job, and I do have to admit the little worn mighty mite did the job. The round stock we used on the lathes came in bundles of 10 foot lengths, taped together at the ends and middle with that fiber strand reenforced plastic tape. Being from a steel supply, the bundles were greasy and filthy, and the tape of course picked up the greasy grit. To get the stock, we had to cut through the tape to free up the lengths of round stock, so we were cutting through sticky steel dust impregnated tape. Sharp edges didn't last long. When the truck dropped off a new supply of round stock, and we had to restock the material racks, there was always some knife sharpening afterwards. Darrel would take out a little pocket size carborundum stone from a drawer in his tool chest, and give the little Schrade a quick honing. The plain carbon steel of the Schrade took a quick edge.
Another thing about those old country boys like Darrel; once they find something that works for them, they won't switch. Not for all the tea in China. For better or for worse, Darrel loved that little Old Timer pattern, and would't change. I realized that, the day he showed up with a new knife.
He had cut some burrs off some delrin parts that he'd milled, and as he was wiping off his pocket knife, I thought the blade looked a little big. I asked him if h'e got a new knife, and he held out his hand. In the palm of that callused work knarled hand, was a brand new Schrade Old Timer might mite. It looked a little weird to see one with a full blade, both in width and length. I expressed some surprise that he would retire his old knife while there was a micron of steel left.
"Oh I didn't retire it. It's just been re-asigned duty stations." he replied, opening one of the small drawers on his machinest chest. There next to his callipers, lay the old mighty mite.
"It was gettin a mite thin in the blade, so I'm gonna use it as my dirty work knife." Darrel said.
Darrel was a country boy, and come deer season, don't look for him at work. He's already signed for the leave. Come spring, don't look for him either, He's off turkey huntin. But in the years I knew Darrel, I never saw him with any other knife but that little Old Timer mighty mite. Even when he went 'huntin'.
I guess like my dad with his peanut, Darrel found a pattern that baked his cookie, so he never switched.
