I lost my first “expensive” knife, a Griptilian that was a gift from my girl friend. I ordered a replacement immediately when I got home from work. The next day, I found my missing knife lying on the tarmac next to my bus, in a couple of inches of wet snow. The replacement became a christmas gift to my SIL.
My next Benchmade was a mini Barrage, which I thought was about the coolest knife I had ever seen. I still thought it cool even after discovering here that assisted knives were naff. When I lost it, the only replacement I could find had a black blade. WhenI found the satin blade I wanted, I put it on my knife shelf to keep in reserve. Some months later, I noticed that the Benchmade was missing, along with a CRKT M21-something. With just those two missing out of 40 or 50 knives, I immediately suspected my stepson, who had developed a heroin habit. His mother persuaded me not to hunt him down and wring his neck, and I actually counted myself lucky he had not cleaned me out, as he had done with his father’s power tools.
He eventually fessed up, and allowed that Pawn America had given him eighty-five bucks for the Benchmade. He promised to replace them when he got out of treatment. Five years have gone by. I’m not holding my breath.