Its a little off topic, but i saw a thread a while back that had the same theme, and there were some very interesting stories. I dont have any though... I guess the closest story i have is i had to make a shelter once in the rain... but im pretty sure everyone has done that... So lets hear em! That is, if you dont mind sharing them!
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Has Your Knife Ever Saved Your Life?
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stabman
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Works for me.
Glad to hear it.
I shudder to think of what could have happened to me if I wasn't carrying my knife! Distracted, patting all my pockets to see where the heck my pocketknife is....WHAMMO! Hit by a bus. Dead.
stabman
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Professor
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The year was 1980 and 5. I was an early-teenage lad riding my brand new ten speed bicycle on our rural roads where I grew up, on my way home at dusk.
Crazy Jed, a man known for having been born without certain faculties, and having a penchant for building experimental two-wheel riding machines out of junker motorcyles and mopeds that he misappropriated, would ride at full speed without any lights or reflectors on these same rural roads. He was like a cross between an evil version of that crazy mailman in the movie Funny Farm with Chevy Chase and Satan himself, without the sunny disposition.
As I approached our lane while still on the main road, I, without lights myself, heard Crazy Jed coming my way. In a panic, I tried dropping my ten speed into a lower gear in preparation of getting off my road and onto our dirt/oyster shell/pea gravel lane. As I attempted this, my right shoe's shoestring got completely tangled in the front sprockets and I had a big-honkin' one-man wreck right in the middle of the road. Crazy Jed still approached, the sound from his two-wheeled monstrosity looming.
There I was in the middle of the road, bike laying on its side and on top of my right leg, me lying in the road, about to be run down by this Mad Max-like being. It was plum dark out now.
Suddenly I remembered my Swiss Army Tinker in my right pocket, which I accessed in time to cut my shoestrings free, at which time I was able to clear the road of myself and my bike.
If not for my quick thinking and lightning agility, mixed with the might of my SAK, I might have been killed by Crazy Jed that night. My children would not have the opportunity to mix it up with their own versions of Crazy Jed. Everybody on this planet should mix it up with at least one Crazy Jed in their lifetime. That, and play in a rock and roll band. I highly recommend both, for what that's worth.
Incidentally, Crazy Jed married a much older and larger woman known only as "Moped Mama." They never had children, despite efforts in public places as I understand, but Jed did go to jail a few years later for burning down a tire store. Tire stores burn pretty steady, just FYI. Luckily no one was hurt.
Anyway, that was how a knife saved my life on that particular occasion. Next time I'll tell the story of how I fought off twelve armed Somali pirates with my Opinel #13 and a Photon Micro-Light. True stories.
Prof.
Crazy Jed, a man known for having been born without certain faculties, and having a penchant for building experimental two-wheel riding machines out of junker motorcyles and mopeds that he misappropriated, would ride at full speed without any lights or reflectors on these same rural roads. He was like a cross between an evil version of that crazy mailman in the movie Funny Farm with Chevy Chase and Satan himself, without the sunny disposition.
As I approached our lane while still on the main road, I, without lights myself, heard Crazy Jed coming my way. In a panic, I tried dropping my ten speed into a lower gear in preparation of getting off my road and onto our dirt/oyster shell/pea gravel lane. As I attempted this, my right shoe's shoestring got completely tangled in the front sprockets and I had a big-honkin' one-man wreck right in the middle of the road. Crazy Jed still approached, the sound from his two-wheeled monstrosity looming.
There I was in the middle of the road, bike laying on its side and on top of my right leg, me lying in the road, about to be run down by this Mad Max-like being. It was plum dark out now.
Suddenly I remembered my Swiss Army Tinker in my right pocket, which I accessed in time to cut my shoestrings free, at which time I was able to clear the road of myself and my bike.
If not for my quick thinking and lightning agility, mixed with the might of my SAK, I might have been killed by Crazy Jed that night. My children would not have the opportunity to mix it up with their own versions of Crazy Jed. Everybody on this planet should mix it up with at least one Crazy Jed in their lifetime. That, and play in a rock and roll band. I highly recommend both, for what that's worth.
Incidentally, Crazy Jed married a much older and larger woman known only as "Moped Mama." They never had children, despite efforts in public places as I understand, but Jed did go to jail a few years later for burning down a tire store. Tire stores burn pretty steady, just FYI. Luckily no one was hurt.
Anyway, that was how a knife saved my life on that particular occasion. Next time I'll tell the story of how I fought off twelve armed Somali pirates with my Opinel #13 and a Photon Micro-Light. True stories.
Prof.
Last edited:
stabman
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http://www.history.com/shows/swamp-...o-guts-no-gator#swamp-people-no-guts-no-gator
Skip to 38:00. If this guy were a forum member, he would win...
Skip to 38:00. If this guy were a forum member, he would win...
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I once fought off an 800 lbs grizzly with a case peanut. well not really a fight, i had been fishing and caught a fish, bear came out wanting the fish , i pulled out my case peanut and in my best spartan voice said "hey bear, come get some" and the bear ran off in fear. LOL not really but i can dream right?
That Crazy Jed story is one heck of a tale! Well told!
I look forward to the pirate story. Somali pirates with two arms are bad enough. But with Somali pirates with twelve arms?!? Gadzooks!
professor, GREAT story. theres a Crazy Jed character where i live. although its a woman. no one knows her real name, but she owns, and lives in this house, a large mansion, known as kildare house, named for the sketchy name of the street that the house is on... anyways, she is crazy. if you drive by her house, she spotted you with a huge floodlight, called the cops, and on one occasion, she got in her car and chased us into town! mysterious story..
Modoc ED
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It didn't actually save my life but --
It was the middle of the night on 5 April 1979 two days after leaving Subic Bay, Philippines and I was dead asleep in my berthing compartment all the way forward on the 03-Level of the USS Ranger (CV61) as she was nearing the Eastern approaches of the Straits of Malacca. All of a sudden there was one heck of a clatter along with sirens, whistles, gongs, and bells. It was the collision alarm and I sat straight up in my rack and jumped to the deck. There was a tremendous shudder throughout the ship as I put on my dungarees and boots and went from my berthing compartment into the port (left) passageway and then through a watertight door onto the catwalk.
Upon reaching the catwalk, I saw that we had struck a tanker in her port side, amidships, and she was holed from her main deck to her waterline. It turns out she was a Liberian tanker christened "Fortune". The Ranger sustained major damage to her bow the forward part of the flight deck and to Secondary Con where the ship was steered from in case the main steering on the bridge was disabled for whatever reason.
As my berthing compartment was directly behind Secondary Con, I returned to the berthing compartment to check on any damage. A cage-like cable run had broken away and was keeping some of the guys from leaving the berthing compartment. Myself and a couple of other guys used our knives and a Leatherman Multi-Tool to cut away enough cable for them to espcape and to free up access to another door to exit the compartment.
The Ranger returned to the Subic Bay Naval Ship Yard where another bow was configured and installed, the flight deck was repaired, and Secondary Con was repaired.
It was the middle of the night on 5 April 1979 two days after leaving Subic Bay, Philippines and I was dead asleep in my berthing compartment all the way forward on the 03-Level of the USS Ranger (CV61) as she was nearing the Eastern approaches of the Straits of Malacca. All of a sudden there was one heck of a clatter along with sirens, whistles, gongs, and bells. It was the collision alarm and I sat straight up in my rack and jumped to the deck. There was a tremendous shudder throughout the ship as I put on my dungarees and boots and went from my berthing compartment into the port (left) passageway and then through a watertight door onto the catwalk.
Upon reaching the catwalk, I saw that we had struck a tanker in her port side, amidships, and she was holed from her main deck to her waterline. It turns out she was a Liberian tanker christened "Fortune". The Ranger sustained major damage to her bow the forward part of the flight deck and to Secondary Con where the ship was steered from in case the main steering on the bridge was disabled for whatever reason.
As my berthing compartment was directly behind Secondary Con, I returned to the berthing compartment to check on any damage. A cage-like cable run had broken away and was keeping some of the guys from leaving the berthing compartment. Myself and a couple of other guys used our knives and a Leatherman Multi-Tool to cut away enough cable for them to espcape and to free up access to another door to exit the compartment.
The Ranger returned to the Subic Bay Naval Ship Yard where another bow was configured and installed, the flight deck was repaired, and Secondary Con was repaired.
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Some of these stories are lmao funny. 
Sent from Ash forum mobile
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It was a cloudy and cool February morning in California and I hadn't eaten in hours. It is possible that I was starving to death. I may or may not have been slightly hung over.
I rolled out of bed and groaned at my girlfriend to put on some clothes. She did so. I then pulled on a sweatshirt and mashed my feet into already-tied sneakers and grabbed some pocket knives and my wallet. The path to the door was not clear. I pushed my bicycle out of the way and kicked an old towel on the ground, then stopped by the couch for a minute to play PS3. I then walked all the way down two flights of stairs to the car and turned it on and embarked on a terrible journey across the city which lasted many, many minutes. I found a parking space all the way right in front of the donut shop immediately and put 15 big cents in the meter. I then walked into the store with my lady and ordered their largest size donut. It was so big, it came in its own cake box. It required a large, black coffee. My lady got an apple fritter.
I returned all the way back to the car and heaved opened the box. The humongous donut was so big that it might have choked me out or made me die if I didn't have a knife on me to cut it up. I busted out my Spyderco Military like a frickin' ninja and then calmly cut the giant donut into more manageable-to-eat donut size pieces. The moral of the story is that it was a close call. True story.
Here are the pics:
I rolled out of bed and groaned at my girlfriend to put on some clothes. She did so. I then pulled on a sweatshirt and mashed my feet into already-tied sneakers and grabbed some pocket knives and my wallet. The path to the door was not clear. I pushed my bicycle out of the way and kicked an old towel on the ground, then stopped by the couch for a minute to play PS3. I then walked all the way down two flights of stairs to the car and turned it on and embarked on a terrible journey across the city which lasted many, many minutes. I found a parking space all the way right in front of the donut shop immediately and put 15 big cents in the meter. I then walked into the store with my lady and ordered their largest size donut. It was so big, it came in its own cake box. It required a large, black coffee. My lady got an apple fritter.
I returned all the way back to the car and heaved opened the box. The humongous donut was so big that it might have choked me out or made me die if I didn't have a knife on me to cut it up. I busted out my Spyderco Military like a frickin' ninja and then calmly cut the giant donut into more manageable-to-eat donut size pieces. The moral of the story is that it was a close call. True story.
Here are the pics:
New around here but I'll give this a shot...
In July of 1977 my girlfriend and I went with a couple of buddies to Table Rock lake to spend the day water skiing. Of course there was some consumption of adult beverages involved and one of my buddies got a little tipped over. After a full day on the lake, we jumped in my 1973 Plymouth Satellite and took off for home. I had been drinking cokes all day because I was driving the boat and had to drive home. Thankfully.
About half way home, while my intoxicated buddy was sitting in the back singing, and telling me to turn up the music, a 16 year old girl in her brand new (still had the window sticker) Ford Fiesta turned left into my path with no signal. I t-boned her. Luckily no serious injuries to anyone, but her car was crushed. My girlfriend and I jumped out to make sure the other driver was ok and as luck would have it a State Trooper had actually been behind the other driver and witnessed the accident. He ran over to check on the other driver and then stepped to my car (where my buddy was still in the back seat).
All of a sudden the Trooper started yelling at my buddy to get out of the car as the Fiesta was leaking gasoline all over the place and he was afraid of a fire. I ran over to my car and I then to my surprise I realized my idiot friend had not been able to find the buckle end of one of the seat belts so he had TIED the two male ends of the seat belts together. Due to the impact of the accident, the seat belts had pulled so tightly, he couldn't get them untied.
I was trying to help him get them untied (while yelling at him that he was an idiot) all the while the Trooper yelling at me to get my friend out of the car. Well, I ran out of options, so I pulled my trusty Buck 110 and cut the seat belts to get my friend out. Thankfully, no fire ever ensued, but it was darned scary for a couple of minutes. By the time I got him out, all I could smell was gas.
The best part of the bad situation was getting to watch the Trooper bust my buddy's chops for 5 minutes about what an idiotic thing he had done and he was lucky the cars didn't go up in flames with him in one of them. We still laugh about that to this day. Oh, and I made him buy me a new seat belt.
Cheers,
Rob
In July of 1977 my girlfriend and I went with a couple of buddies to Table Rock lake to spend the day water skiing. Of course there was some consumption of adult beverages involved and one of my buddies got a little tipped over. After a full day on the lake, we jumped in my 1973 Plymouth Satellite and took off for home. I had been drinking cokes all day because I was driving the boat and had to drive home. Thankfully.
About half way home, while my intoxicated buddy was sitting in the back singing, and telling me to turn up the music, a 16 year old girl in her brand new (still had the window sticker) Ford Fiesta turned left into my path with no signal. I t-boned her. Luckily no serious injuries to anyone, but her car was crushed. My girlfriend and I jumped out to make sure the other driver was ok and as luck would have it a State Trooper had actually been behind the other driver and witnessed the accident. He ran over to check on the other driver and then stepped to my car (where my buddy was still in the back seat).
All of a sudden the Trooper started yelling at my buddy to get out of the car as the Fiesta was leaking gasoline all over the place and he was afraid of a fire. I ran over to my car and I then to my surprise I realized my idiot friend had not been able to find the buckle end of one of the seat belts so he had TIED the two male ends of the seat belts together. Due to the impact of the accident, the seat belts had pulled so tightly, he couldn't get them untied.
I was trying to help him get them untied (while yelling at him that he was an idiot) all the while the Trooper yelling at me to get my friend out of the car. Well, I ran out of options, so I pulled my trusty Buck 110 and cut the seat belts to get my friend out. Thankfully, no fire ever ensued, but it was darned scary for a couple of minutes. By the time I got him out, all I could smell was gas.
The best part of the bad situation was getting to watch the Trooper bust my buddy's chops for 5 minutes about what an idiotic thing he had done and he was lucky the cars didn't go up in flames with him in one of them. We still laugh about that to this day. Oh, and I made him buy me a new seat belt.
Cheers,
Rob