OH- this is actually my first knife. I don't know what happened to it, I think I lost it as a kid. I remember getting at the scout store with my dad. I've been thinking about it since you posted this picture. I was probably in the first or second grade. Thanks for the memory.
-
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Giveaway-1961 Imperial WINNER ANNOUNCED POST#52
- Thread starter rishma
- Start date
OH- this is actually my first knife. I don't know what happened to it, I think I lost it as a kid. I remember getting at the scout store with my dad. I've been thinking about it since you posted this picture. I was probably in the first or second grade. Thanks for the memory.
- Joined
- Jun 3, 2015
- Messages
- 2,131
I'm in if that's ok. ^^^^^blue cub like that or a black handled schrade stockman, not sure of the model, but it had a punch I think. Lost all my old knives in a house fire in high school, unfortunately some that were of no commercial value but great sentimental to me. Been meaning to replace some for quite awhile, but haven't been able to start yet. Did anyone realize that blue cubbie is one of the few knives with a locking punch/awl? Kinda neat.
Thanks, Neal
Thanks, Neal
What the heck? I'm in! My first knife was given to me by my Dad on 9/2/07, on my tenth birthday. It was a Buck 379 Solo with a wood handle. I still have it somewhere, and I'll try to upload a picture soon. I carried that knife until my grandfather gave me an Old Timer Stockman when I was twelve.
- Joined
- Aug 30, 2014
- Messages
- 519
Not an entry, because I just won a GAW. The first knives I remember having were a Colonial faux-sawcut Barlow, which I still have, and a Cub Scout knife, which I don't.
abbydaddy
Gold Member
- Joined
- Oct 14, 2014
- Messages
- 3,249
The knives that I keep all have some sentimental value that makes them special to me. In that spirit, if I win, I would ask that you seriously consider holding on to that Demo Knife. Don't get me wrong, I like Demo Knives a lot, but even if that is not the original that you were gifted, I feel like it could never be as special to me as it is to you.
My first knife that I carried was my dad's SAK. It was a big one with all the tools, including a magnifying glass. At the time it was really hard for me to actually open the knife, and my memories aren't super clear, so I think I mostly just carried it around in my hand. The first knife that was actually mine, and was promptly lost, was a more basic SAK. Then I had a few Old Timer knives (at least I remember them as Old Timers). In particular I remember one as a four blade serpentine with jigged worm groove bone (but I am not sure now if that memory is accurate).
I always had a tendency to lose or give away knives though, and the only one that really stuck around was my old K. Tragbar that my grandpa gave me when I was 11. And the only reason I can really say that it stuck around is because I have it now. But I actually lost it on the tundra when I was 14. I thought it was lost and gone forever, but one day when I was working at a gas station in my home town a guy came in with a mud covered knife in a sheath in the back of his truck. The handle looked like my old knife's handle, so I asked him if I could buy it from him. He said his kids had found it while they were hiking, and that I could just have it. I assumed that the knife was going to be a rusted piece of crap, but I thanked him and took it inside to clean it. As i was cleaning off the mud and gunk so that I could get it out of the sheath I was struck again by just how much like my old knife it looked, right down to the slightly misaligned spacers where it looked like someone had taken it apart and not put it back together quite right just like I used to. Then I got it out of the sheath, and was shocked after cleaning and oiling the blade that there had been no real significant staining, there was some slight superficial rust with the mud that washed off easily, but the blade was fine. Then I got to cleaning the sheath to see if it could be salvaged, and I found the initials that I had carved into the sheath years earlier. It was actually my knife come back to me.
Sadly, that old sheath didn't survive my ex's dog, BUT the knife itself is still going strong, and I look forward to passing it on to my kids when they get old enough to not lose things.
My first knife that I carried was my dad's SAK. It was a big one with all the tools, including a magnifying glass. At the time it was really hard for me to actually open the knife, and my memories aren't super clear, so I think I mostly just carried it around in my hand. The first knife that was actually mine, and was promptly lost, was a more basic SAK. Then I had a few Old Timer knives (at least I remember them as Old Timers). In particular I remember one as a four blade serpentine with jigged worm groove bone (but I am not sure now if that memory is accurate).
I always had a tendency to lose or give away knives though, and the only one that really stuck around was my old K. Tragbar that my grandpa gave me when I was 11. And the only reason I can really say that it stuck around is because I have it now. But I actually lost it on the tundra when I was 14. I thought it was lost and gone forever, but one day when I was working at a gas station in my home town a guy came in with a mud covered knife in a sheath in the back of his truck. The handle looked like my old knife's handle, so I asked him if I could buy it from him. He said his kids had found it while they were hiking, and that I could just have it. I assumed that the knife was going to be a rusted piece of crap, but I thanked him and took it inside to clean it. As i was cleaning off the mud and gunk so that I could get it out of the sheath I was struck again by just how much like my old knife it looked, right down to the slightly misaligned spacers where it looked like someone had taken it apart and not put it back together quite right just like I used to. Then I got it out of the sheath, and was shocked after cleaning and oiling the blade that there had been no real significant staining, there was some slight superficial rust with the mud that washed off easily, but the blade was fine. Then I got to cleaning the sheath to see if it could be salvaged, and I found the initials that I had carved into the sheath years earlier. It was actually my knife come back to me.
Sadly, that old sheath didn't survive my ex's dog, BUT the knife itself is still going strong, and I look forward to passing it on to my kids when they get old enough to not lose things.
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- May 9, 2002
- Messages
- 12,698
I really like reading everyone's stories
I had a plethora of knives when I was a young kid. All of them either lost due to a loose pocket into the deep underbrush of the wooded wilds of rural Indiana or confiscated by my mom. Almost all of them given to me by my grandfather or grandmother. I had a nice old Case Barlow that my grandpa found at a yard sale for half a buck (mid 1980's money). He sharpened it to the point that the edge gleamed bright against the decades earned patina on the clip blade. He told me it was just like the one that he used to carry when he was a boy. I think my mom got a hold of it, and it was lost to the ages.
That old knife is what inspired me to buy a well used Craftsman Barlow at the local swap shop a couple years ago. Love the robust simplicity of that old Barlow design.
My first EARNED pocket knife was the same one so many of you mentioned. A Cub Scouts pocket knife. I was in probably 2nd grade. I don't remember how many tubs of popcorn I sold, but it was a ridiculous amount to earn that knife. Ever realize how much easier it is for girls to hock their cookies than those tubs and bags of popcorn the guys have to push
? I remember being so proud. My mom and dad and I had ridden in Dad's truck to the rewards event. It was (actually still IS) an old Chevy single cab with a bench seat. We always rode together as a family in that truck anytime my old man wanted to make a statement about something. It was a tight fit, but it was OK. My mom is a petite 4'10
At any rate, after we received the knife and were heading home, my dad warned me not to mess with the blade until I got back to the house and could see what I was doing. The cab was too cramped to open it safely, he said. Of course, I was 7 or 8 years old and much smarter than my parents. The first thing I did was open up the high gloss spear point. As we drove along, we hit a bump causing me to fumble the half open blade to slam closed on the meatiest most vascular part of my finger. It hurt so bad and bled like hell. For a moment, I thought about just sucking it up and ignoring it until we got home lest I incur my dad's wrath and I-told-you-so. I fessed up when it looked like I might bleed all over his upholstery. Dad didn't pop the back of my head too hard, but mom did confiscate the knife. Nearly 30 years later, it is still MIA.
Years and years later I would come into possession of my later father in law's scout's knife. The tool set was a bit different, but I was honored to have a knife that I KNOW he used and carried for decades and decades. It's a bittersweet memento of the second dad in my life. Really, it's not a great knife, but it is a useful one if a bit rough around the edge. A very capable tool that rides in my pocket when a warm memory of my father in law pops in for a welcome visit.
Finally, my first sanctioned knife/tool. One that wasn't smuggled to me by my grandma or "mine" by semantics alone when my mom would stealth-fully ferret it away when I was gone to school. I'll never forget it. It was Christmas, and even though Santa still made his yearly visits to our house, there was a gift under the tree a week or two early. It was to me, from Dad. It wasn't a very big box. Certainly no toy on my wish list. It also had substantial mass for such a box no more than 1/2" thick by 4" long. Everyday I would pester my old man to see if he would let me open it early. Each day with a grin on his face, he would sake his head and say, "Not until Christmas".
Christmas morning finally came. Santa was always better to me than our meager coffers probably warranted, but my folks must have passed on the wild notion that I was, in fact, a pretty good boy. Regardless, all of the twinkling bulk of wrapped boxes were forgotten. I dove in to hunt down the gift to me from my Dad. I tore into it. What was inside was, to me at the time, THE coolest present of all time. It was one of the old Proto-Multitools. An adjustable wrench with a couple of screwdrivers, some scissors, and a nice size knife blade that all folded from the side. The grip scales were a black plastic. Embossed down the side in gold lettering was "JACOB". I still remember the smile on my dad's face as I'm sure the look of awe on mine was priceless. That whole Christmas morning my old man just couldn't seem to get hardly ANY of the tape off the gifts. He kept calling me over to carefully cut the goodies free.
That winter, the following spring, and the summer there after, that little tool rode in my back pocket. I found all manner of things to tinker with and take apart. One sad day, the woods swallowed it up somewhere. It's most likely buried under 6' of fill dirt of a home that now stands where my childhood wooded playground was 30 years ago. It wasn't exactly a "fine" tool. My dad was smart enough to know that boys lose things. An heirloom it was not. However, to this day, that tool/knife remains the best Christmas gift I have ever gotten and is most likely THE knife that cemented my passion for our hobby. To this day, I don't think my dad really understands just how special that gift was to me even if i lost it within the first year.
I had a plethora of knives when I was a young kid. All of them either lost due to a loose pocket into the deep underbrush of the wooded wilds of rural Indiana or confiscated by my mom. Almost all of them given to me by my grandfather or grandmother. I had a nice old Case Barlow that my grandpa found at a yard sale for half a buck (mid 1980's money). He sharpened it to the point that the edge gleamed bright against the decades earned patina on the clip blade. He told me it was just like the one that he used to carry when he was a boy. I think my mom got a hold of it, and it was lost to the ages.
That old knife is what inspired me to buy a well used Craftsman Barlow at the local swap shop a couple years ago. Love the robust simplicity of that old Barlow design.
My first EARNED pocket knife was the same one so many of you mentioned. A Cub Scouts pocket knife. I was in probably 2nd grade. I don't remember how many tubs of popcorn I sold, but it was a ridiculous amount to earn that knife. Ever realize how much easier it is for girls to hock their cookies than those tubs and bags of popcorn the guys have to push
? I remember being so proud. My mom and dad and I had ridden in Dad's truck to the rewards event. It was (actually still IS) an old Chevy single cab with a bench seat. We always rode together as a family in that truck anytime my old man wanted to make a statement about something. It was a tight fit, but it was OK. My mom is a petite 4'10At any rate, after we received the knife and were heading home, my dad warned me not to mess with the blade until I got back to the house and could see what I was doing. The cab was too cramped to open it safely, he said. Of course, I was 7 or 8 years old and much smarter than my parents. The first thing I did was open up the high gloss spear point. As we drove along, we hit a bump causing me to fumble the half open blade to slam closed on the meatiest most vascular part of my finger. It hurt so bad and bled like hell. For a moment, I thought about just sucking it up and ignoring it until we got home lest I incur my dad's wrath and I-told-you-so. I fessed up when it looked like I might bleed all over his upholstery. Dad didn't pop the back of my head too hard, but mom did confiscate the knife. Nearly 30 years later, it is still MIA.
Years and years later I would come into possession of my later father in law's scout's knife. The tool set was a bit different, but I was honored to have a knife that I KNOW he used and carried for decades and decades. It's a bittersweet memento of the second dad in my life. Really, it's not a great knife, but it is a useful one if a bit rough around the edge. A very capable tool that rides in my pocket when a warm memory of my father in law pops in for a welcome visit.
Finally, my first sanctioned knife/tool. One that wasn't smuggled to me by my grandma or "mine" by semantics alone when my mom would stealth-fully ferret it away when I was gone to school. I'll never forget it. It was Christmas, and even though Santa still made his yearly visits to our house, there was a gift under the tree a week or two early. It was to me, from Dad. It wasn't a very big box. Certainly no toy on my wish list. It also had substantial mass for such a box no more than 1/2" thick by 4" long. Everyday I would pester my old man to see if he would let me open it early. Each day with a grin on his face, he would sake his head and say, "Not until Christmas".
Christmas morning finally came. Santa was always better to me than our meager coffers probably warranted, but my folks must have passed on the wild notion that I was, in fact, a pretty good boy. Regardless, all of the twinkling bulk of wrapped boxes were forgotten. I dove in to hunt down the gift to me from my Dad. I tore into it. What was inside was, to me at the time, THE coolest present of all time. It was one of the old Proto-Multitools. An adjustable wrench with a couple of screwdrivers, some scissors, and a nice size knife blade that all folded from the side. The grip scales were a black plastic. Embossed down the side in gold lettering was "JACOB". I still remember the smile on my dad's face as I'm sure the look of awe on mine was priceless. That whole Christmas morning my old man just couldn't seem to get hardly ANY of the tape off the gifts. He kept calling me over to carefully cut the goodies free.
That winter, the following spring, and the summer there after, that little tool rode in my back pocket. I found all manner of things to tinker with and take apart. One sad day, the woods swallowed it up somewhere. It's most likely buried under 6' of fill dirt of a home that now stands where my childhood wooded playground was 30 years ago. It wasn't exactly a "fine" tool. My dad was smart enough to know that boys lose things. An heirloom it was not. However, to this day, that tool/knife remains the best Christmas gift I have ever gotten and is most likely THE knife that cemented my passion for our hobby. To this day, I don't think my dad really understands just how special that gift was to me even if i lost it within the first year.
My first Imperial (IKC) was a metal crimped scale "bone stamped" boy's knife like the one below:
Pics from Google images:
https://img0.etsystatic.com/049/0/7942314/il_570xN.734195400_7dzf.jpg
I bought is when I was 7 or 8 for 25 cents at a local 5 and 10 cent store. Of course
the youngens on the forum probably never heard of those Now I have a collection
of about 25 or so Imperials, IKC, and German "Boy's Favorite", etc. Not worth anything,
but a fun memory collection of my long, long ago youth.
Rich
Pics from Google images:
https://img0.etsystatic.com/049/0/7942314/il_570xN.734195400_7dzf.jpg
I bought is when I was 7 or 8 for 25 cents at a local 5 and 10 cent store. Of course
the youngens on the forum probably never heard of those
Now I have a collectionof about 25 or so Imperials, IKC, and German "Boy's Favorite", etc. Not worth anything,
but a fun memory collection of my long, long ago youth.
Rich
Last edited:
5K Qs
Gold Member
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2014
- Messages
- 15,388
Jake, I really liked reading YOUR story! You can spin a yarn with the best of them! :thumbup::thumbup:I really like reading everyone's stories
... To this day, I don't think my dad really understands just how special that gift was to me even if i lost it within the first year.
- GT
btb01
Gold Member
- Joined
- Jul 26, 2008
- Messages
- 7,697
Great story and awesome giveaway, rishma! I have an old demo knife like that that belonged to my grandpa, but it's doesn't get carried because, like your original, I broke one of the backsprings on mine. 
It wasn't that long ago, and I'm pretty sure I know exactly what happened. I was opening up the blades to take a photo of the knife, and had two blades on the same spring open halfway at the same time. Apparently it's a known weakness of these knives, because now both the main blade and the punch are loose and come out of the handle a half inch or do when closed. So I would appreciate an opportunity to have one of these I could carry and use (and avoid making the same mistake with!).
I don't know which came first, but I carried both of these knives a lot as a kid. The first is an old stockman my grandpa gave me. It got pretty well abused by yours truly, and then left in a drawer for many years -- "rode hard and put away wet" I believe is the expression. When I first got into traditionals as an adult (which coincided with my learning to sharpen my own knives), I dug this thing out, cleaned it up as best I could and used it sharpening practice, which resulted in falling in love with the knife all over again. There are no markings other than "Made in USA," but the collective knowledge of the Porch seemed to think it was made by Camillus, probably for Sears (which would make perfect sense, because my grandpa bought pretty everything at Sears
).
The second knife I carried as a kid (second in this post, that is; like I said, I can't remember which one of these I owned first) was this Colonial "Royal Ambassadors" scout knife. Royal Ambassadors was basically the Southern Baptist version of Boy Scouts, and as kids my brother and I (as well as our dad) were very active with the organization through our church.
Thanks again for the opportunity! I've really enjoyed reading everyone's responses!
It wasn't that long ago, and I'm pretty sure I know exactly what happened. I was opening up the blades to take a photo of the knife, and had two blades on the same spring open halfway at the same time. Apparently it's a known weakness of these knives, because now both the main blade and the punch are loose and come out of the handle a half inch or do when closed. So I would appreciate an opportunity to have one of these I could carry and use (and avoid making the same mistake with!).I don't know which came first, but I carried both of these knives a lot as a kid. The first is an old stockman my grandpa gave me. It got pretty well abused by yours truly, and then left in a drawer for many years -- "rode hard and put away wet" I believe is the expression. When I first got into traditionals as an adult (which coincided with my learning to sharpen my own knives), I dug this thing out, cleaned it up as best I could and used it sharpening practice, which resulted in falling in love with the knife all over again. There are no markings other than "Made in USA," but the collective knowledge of the Porch seemed to think it was made by Camillus, probably for Sears (which would make perfect sense, because my grandpa bought pretty everything at Sears
).
The second knife I carried as a kid (second in this post, that is; like I said, I can't remember which one of these I owned first) was this Colonial "Royal Ambassadors" scout knife. Royal Ambassadors was basically the Southern Baptist version of Boy Scouts, and as kids my brother and I (as well as our dad) were very active with the organization through our church.
Thanks again for the opportunity! I've really enjoyed reading everyone's responses!
afishhunter
Basic Member
- Joined
- Oct 21, 2014
- Messages
- 14,482
Considering the continuing popularity of the Old "Demo" knife, (and Boy Scout knives; just with a different handle), and how many of the military contract knives regardless of if made by Camillus, Imperial, Western, and others, that have broken or weak main springs, they were all built to the same specifcations. It is kind of surprising that at least one of the knifel making supply companies does not make replacement back springs for them.
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2016
- Messages
- 11,043
I am a bit of a sucker for nostalgia, I love all the stories. I will include one of my own, which is a quote from a post a started a little while ago. I still have the knife which is surprising considering I thought I had lost it many years ago. Funny how things tend to turn up...
I put this knife through its paces, whittled everything I possibly could. "Need string cut? I got it!", "Oh you need those packages opened? I got it!", "Scissors? Nah, I can use my knife!"
Yeah, I got myself into trouble with this knife a few times, but it certainly fosters memories that are not soon forgotten.
I put this knife through its paces, whittled everything I possibly could. "Need string cut? I got it!", "Oh you need those packages opened? I got it!", "Scissors? Nah, I can use my knife!"
Yeah, I got myself into trouble with this knife a few times, but it certainly fosters memories that are not soon forgotten.
Pic:
The Forest Master was my Great Grandpa's knife. It was my 3rd knife, if I recall. I used it about as much as my huntsman. Young me, growing up with the endless project of building a tree mansion in the woods, thought that the bolsters were to be used as a little hammer, which i learned was not the case after trying to nail in a single tack. Luckily the bolster sustained no damage.
This knife also bears a blood patina that was earned (by accident!) on my 8th birthday. I definitely learned my lesson about cutting open coconuts!
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2013
- Messages
- 6,173
I'm in....
My first knife was a small peanut. I was a week into first grade and I went to visit my grandfather for the weekend. Prior to this, I had used a knife many times under the supervision of either my grandfather or father, but had never actually "owned" a knife.
On Sunday, just before my mother picked me up, my grandfather gave me a small peanut-style 2 bladed knife, saying
"Now that you're going to school, we can't have you borrowing anyone's knife at school."
That statement meant that once I had started school, I should have my own knife.
About Halloween-time, the pencil sharpener in the classroom literally blew apart in a shower of parts. Y'all "more mature" individuals know the type I mean - a shiny, stainless-steel shavings catcher with a fishing reel style handle on the side. I needed to sharpen my pencil, so I pulled out my knife and sharpened it in the manner I had been taught. I was then bombarded with requests by the other kids to sharpen their pencils. The teacher, Mrs. Huff, had no problem with me using my knife to sharpen their pencils.
Pen knives got put on a lot of kids Christmas lists that year. After the Christmas break, nearly every kid in class had a knife. Since the girls wore dresses, they had no place to carry knives but most ended up with one in their cigar box of crayons and pencils.
Either my grandfather or father would sharpen it as necessary until I got proficient at hand sharpening. I carried that knife to school everyday for over 2 years until the main blade got a little wobbly. At that time, my father passed on to me another used peanut, this time one he had been using every day at his feed store. I used this one for a while and then was given another hand-me down. I think sometimes my father and grandfather used the excuse that "Wayne's knife" was worn out as a reason to buy a new one for themselves because the condition of my new users became progressively better. I probably still have a half dozen or more of those old knives in a box somewhere. Need to dig them out and take a picture.
My first traditional fixed blade came 4 years later.
In August, 1965, shortly before I started the 5th grade and was still only 10 years old, I was helping my grandfather prep the combine for maize harvest. His left shirt sleeve came unrolled and got caught in one of the gears/chains. He pulled out his belt knife, a Kabar 1232, sliced his sleeve off and said,
"That's why you carry a fixed blade when working on machinery. I would never have been able to get a pocket knife out and open in time."
I asked him,
"Well, Popo, what if it had been your other arm?" He was like I am - vertically challenged, fat, with short arms.
He looked at me a little funny, then his eyes widened. He walked over, turned off the tractor and said
"Let's go."
We drove the 3 miles to town and went to the Western Auto store. They didn't have any Kabar 1232s in stock, so he bought the closest thing they had to it - a Western L46-5, the post WW2 version of Western's G46-5, the "Baby Shark" knife.
A couple of weeks later, the Western Auto owner called him up and said
"Hey Alvin, We got those little Kabars in if you still want one."
So my grandfather went and got a 2nd 1232 to carry. A week or 2 later, when I spent a weekend at the farm, he gave me the L46-5, saying
"If you're smart enough to come up with that question, you're old enough to have your own fixed blade."
I still have most of my first traditional folders and that first fixed blade, along with the first folder I bought with my own money - a Buck 110.
I still carry paired Kabar 1232s, Kabar 1260s, Western L46-5s or Western L48As (very similar to 1232s) literally everyday 52 years later. The exceptions are that I carry Kabar early-1980s 1227s for Sunday church services, funerals and weddings.
My first knife was a small peanut. I was a week into first grade and I went to visit my grandfather for the weekend. Prior to this, I had used a knife many times under the supervision of either my grandfather or father, but had never actually "owned" a knife.
On Sunday, just before my mother picked me up, my grandfather gave me a small peanut-style 2 bladed knife, saying
"Now that you're going to school, we can't have you borrowing anyone's knife at school."
That statement meant that once I had started school, I should have my own knife.
About Halloween-time, the pencil sharpener in the classroom literally blew apart in a shower of parts. Y'all "more mature" individuals know the type I mean - a shiny, stainless-steel shavings catcher with a fishing reel style handle on the side. I needed to sharpen my pencil, so I pulled out my knife and sharpened it in the manner I had been taught. I was then bombarded with requests by the other kids to sharpen their pencils. The teacher, Mrs. Huff, had no problem with me using my knife to sharpen their pencils.
Pen knives got put on a lot of kids Christmas lists that year. After the Christmas break, nearly every kid in class had a knife. Since the girls wore dresses, they had no place to carry knives but most ended up with one in their cigar box of crayons and pencils.
Either my grandfather or father would sharpen it as necessary until I got proficient at hand sharpening. I carried that knife to school everyday for over 2 years until the main blade got a little wobbly. At that time, my father passed on to me another used peanut, this time one he had been using every day at his feed store. I used this one for a while and then was given another hand-me down. I think sometimes my father and grandfather used the excuse that "Wayne's knife" was worn out as a reason to buy a new one for themselves because the condition of my new users became progressively better. I probably still have a half dozen or more of those old knives in a box somewhere. Need to dig them out and take a picture.
My first traditional fixed blade came 4 years later.
In August, 1965, shortly before I started the 5th grade and was still only 10 years old, I was helping my grandfather prep the combine for maize harvest. His left shirt sleeve came unrolled and got caught in one of the gears/chains. He pulled out his belt knife, a Kabar 1232, sliced his sleeve off and said,
"That's why you carry a fixed blade when working on machinery. I would never have been able to get a pocket knife out and open in time."
I asked him,
"Well, Popo, what if it had been your other arm?" He was like I am - vertically challenged, fat, with short arms.
He looked at me a little funny, then his eyes widened. He walked over, turned off the tractor and said
"Let's go."
We drove the 3 miles to town and went to the Western Auto store. They didn't have any Kabar 1232s in stock, so he bought the closest thing they had to it - a Western L46-5, the post WW2 version of Western's G46-5, the "Baby Shark" knife.
A couple of weeks later, the Western Auto owner called him up and said
"Hey Alvin, We got those little Kabars in if you still want one."
So my grandfather went and got a 2nd 1232 to carry. A week or 2 later, when I spent a weekend at the farm, he gave me the L46-5, saying
"If you're smart enough to come up with that question, you're old enough to have your own fixed blade."
I still have most of my first traditional folders and that first fixed blade, along with the first folder I bought with my own money - a Buck 110.
I still carry paired Kabar 1232s, Kabar 1260s, Western L46-5s or Western L48As (very similar to 1232s) literally everyday 52 years later. The exceptions are that I carry Kabar early-1980s 1227s for Sunday church services, funerals and weddings.
I'm in....
My first knife was a small peanut. I was a week into first grade and I went to visit my grandfather for the weekend. Prior to this, I had used a knife many times under the supervision of either my grandfather or father, but had never actually "owned" a knife.
On Sunday, just before my mother picked me up, my grandfather gave me a small peanut-style 2 bladed knife, saying
"Now that you're going to school, we can't have you borrowing anyone's knife at school."
That statement meant that once I had started school, I should have my own knife.
About Halloween-time, the pencil sharpener in the classroom literally blew apart in a shower of parts. Y'all "more mature" individuals know the type I mean - a shiny, stainless-steel shavings catcher with a fishing reel style handle on the side. I needed to sharpen my pencil, so I pulled out my knife and sharpened it in the manner I had been taught. I was then bombarded with requests by the other kids to sharpen their pencils. The teacher, Mrs. Huff, had no problem with me using my knife to sharpen their pencils.
Pen knives got put on a lot of kids Christmas lists that year. After the Christmas break, nearly every kid in class had a knife. Since the girls wore dresses, they had no place to carry knives but most ended up with one in their cigar box of crayons and pencils.
Either my grandfather or father would sharpen it as necessary until I got proficient at hand sharpening. I carried that knife to school everyday for over 2 years until the main blade got a little wobbly. At that time, my father passed on to me another used peanut, this time one he had been using every day at his feed store. I used this one for a while and then was given another hand-me down. I think sometimes my father and grandfather used the excuse that "Wayne's knife" was worn out as a reason to buy a new one for themselves because the condition of my new users became progressively better. I probably still have a half dozen or more of those old knives in a box somewhere. Need to dig them out and take a picture.
My first traditional fixed blade came 4 years later.
In August, 1965, shortly before I started the 5th grade and was still only 10 years old, I was helping my grandfather prep the combine for maize harvest. His left shirt sleeve came unrolled and got caught in one of the gears/chains. He pulled out his belt knife, a Kabar 1232, sliced his sleeve off and said,
"That's why you carry a fixed blade when working on machinery. I would never have been able to get a pocket knife out and open in time."
I asked him,
"Well, Popo, what if it had been your other arm?" He was like I am - vertically challenged, fat, with short arms.
He looked at me a little funny, then his eyes widened. He walked over, turned off the tractor and said
"Let's go."
We drove the 3 miles to town and went to the Western Auto store. They didn't have any Kabar 1232s in stock, so he bought the closest thing they had to it - a Western L46-5, the post WW2 version of Western's G46-5, the "Baby Shark" knife.
A couple of weeks later, the Western Auto owner called him up and said
"Hey Alvin, We got those little Kabars in if you still want one."
So my grandfather went and got a 2nd 1232 to carry. A week or 2 later, when I spent a weekend at the farm, he gave me the L46-5, saying
"If you're smart enough to come up with that question, you're old enough to have your own fixed blade."
I still have most of my first traditional folders and that first fixed blade, along with the first folder I bought with my own money - a Buck 110.
I still carry paired Kabar 1232s, Kabar 1260s, Western L46-5s or Western L48As (very similar to 1232s) literally everyday 52 years later. The exceptions are that I carry Kabar early-1980s 1227s for Sunday church services, funerals and weddings.
Thanks for the story!
Your grandfather's advice about carrying a fixed blade around machinery seems really sound to me - I may have to apply that sometime down the road if I ever work around more dangerous machines.
abbydaddy
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...
"That's why you carry a fixed blade when working on machinery. I would never have been able to get a pocket knife out and open in time."
I asked him,
"Well, Popo, what if it had been your other arm?" He was like I am - vertically challenged, fat, with short arms.
He looked at me a little funny, then his eyes widened. He walked over, turned off the tractor and said
"Let's go."
We drove the 3 miles to town and went to the Western Auto store. They didn't have any Kabar 1232s in stock, so he bought the closest thing they had to it - a Western L46-5, the post WW2 version of Western's G46-5, the "Baby Shark" knife.
A couple of weeks later, the Western Auto owner called him up and said
"Hey Alvin, We got those little Kabars in if you still want one."
So my grandfather went and got a 2nd 1232 to carry. A week or 2 later, when I spent a weekend at the farm, he gave me the L46-5, saying
"If you're smart enough to come up with that question, you're old enough to have your own fixed blade."
...
That is a heck of a story, and I am happy to hear it turned out better than other stories I've known about sleeves caught in machinery. It is also a good argument for carrying two fixed blades... but I will probably stick to one while I work since the machinery I work with is strictly hand held.
I carried a Buck 501 that my good friend gave to me late in my youngster days growing up. We used to play music on guitar, and have bonfires out in the backyard fire pit. It used to be a blast to take some katanas and go out and do some tamashigiri or quick draw on some bottles. We would talk about things like politics, society, childhood, and things we have done. It was really beautiful to me. I still have that knife in my safe, rarely carry it for fear of loosing it. once in a great while i will take it out and oil it up and carry it for a day to remember. That is one of my most precious traditionals. I have no camera around me, wish I could post up a picture. Please count me in, thanks for the gesture. :thumbup: :thumbup:
5K Qs
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- 15,388
irona, IMHO, a Minichamp, a Huntsman, and a Forest-Master are STILL 3 fine knives to carry! :thumbup::thumbup: I have all three in my current carry rotation.Pic:
The Forest Master was my Great Grandpa's knife. It was my 3rd knife, if I recall. ...
Really enjoyed your story, zzyzzogeton! :thumbup:
I'd also enjoy seeing a picture of Wayne's hand-me-down knives sometime! - GT
Oh yes, definitely! I don't carry the minichamp anymore for sentimental reasons, I would carry the forest master but again sentimental reasons and also the mark scale has a pin broken off. I either have to repin it or more likely epoxy it back on, which I just have to get around to when I do my next batch of epoxy. The huntsman just got its mark scale re-epoxy'd (over the years it had developed some play in that scale) and had it's very first sharpening (I didn't know how to sharpen as a kid), and now it's ready to go on some more adventures with me. If anything it's in better condition than when I got it, the blades and tools all open super smoothly.
I think my traditional I carried was a 3 blade stockman, perhaps a Case. Your pictured knife reminds me, though, of my Peace Corps days and an identical knife that was very useful for village tasks around salt water. When I left for the USA, the knife stayed behind with a local fishing buddy. I hope he put it to good use.