No philosophy here, just pragmatic mind set. When you walk out the front door in the morning, you never know what you may have to deal with before you get home again. Packages to open, twine/rope to cut, food to deal with. A zillion things. Or maybe save a life.
In January of 1991, my daughter and I were driving into Frederick Maryland to the Toyota dealer to get her a car for to drive up to college. Rt 26 does a very sharp left hand decreasing radius curve to merge onto Interstate 15 south. As we approached, an old Datsun B210 blew past us at a very high rate of speed. Entering th curve, it hit ice, slid sideways, spun three times, flipped and rolled and came to rest against the far guardrail, upside down. As we braked and pulled up, black smoke was starting to rise form the engine compartment. The battery had broke loose and was laying up agains the greasy engine block, shorting out and starting to burn. Imposable to reach, and there was more pressing matters to attend to. Inside the overturned car, a baby was screaming and a woman voice was yelling for help.
Crawling into he wreck, I found a baby in a car seat strapped into the front passenger seat. It was easy to press the seat belt release and the car seat with baby still strapped in fell onto my chest. Pushed it out the window for Jessica to get the other side of the guardrail. The driver was another matter.
I found an obese young woman thrashing around screaming hysterically and as I tried to release her seatbelt, nothing happened. Her weight hanging upside down from the drivers seat was too much. Pressing with both thumbs on the release catch did zip. By this time the car was filing with greasy black smoke and visibility was going down. Death from smoke inhalation was a real possibility if this lady was trapped in the car.
Rolling over on my side, I got out my pocket knife, which was at that time a well worn Buck 301 stockman. Opening the sheep foot blade it was easy to cut through the seat belt just above where it entered the buckle/latch assembly. Dropping the screaming lady other head, I wiggled out backwards, my job done and I was really gagging on the greasy smoke of the burning oil scum coating the old engine.
It was the one time in my long life, now 81 years, that a life was actually saved by my having a knife on hand. If I didn't have a knife, the driver would have died there. Just the little 1 3/4 inch sheep foot blade of a Buck stockman made all the difference in the world. Any knife would have worked, even a little SAK classic would have sawed its way through the nylon webbing of the seat belt.
The important thing is, to have ANY knife that is halfway sharp. "Stuff" happens. That guy who had his arm trapped by a rock, and had to amputate with w cheap Chinese knock off of a Leatherman, needed any kind of knife, desperately.
Like my old man told me when I was a kid, You never know whats gonna happen between when you walk out the front door in the morning and getting home that night.