I found a small Brown Mule at a flea market for $7 when I was in high school. I bought a small diamond pocket stone and taught myself to sharpen freehand with that knife. I scratched the hell out of the blade while learning to sharpen, but it was the best knife I had ever owned. It sat in the front pouch of my J-10's bench seat for a few years. I'd use it every weekend when we would go off-roading around Waco and whenever else I could. One day I reached for it and it was gone.
I met a guy in class that quickly became my best friend. We were like peas and carrots for years until I realized he had been stealing from the group of us friends. He admitted to stealing cash, movies, clothes, shoes and much, much more. I asked him if he stole my knife. He said, "No," but I didn't believe him. I was furious. He was a clepto and stole for the thrill of it. He stashed everything around his room. We searched his room and found almost everything he stole except that knife and a few other things he admitted to.
It sounds weird, but I'm glad I didn't find my Brown Mule at his house. I like to think that he respected me enough not to steal THAT from me. He stole probably over a hundred dollars worth of stuff from me alone, but that $7 knife would break my heart.
I plan on getting one again some day, but it has to be under good circumstances. I loved that knife and it was set free. If it was meant to be, it will come back.
stdlrf11
