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- Jun 30, 2005
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In 1987 I went back to Salinas, Calif to visit with some High School friends I had not seen since moving back to Atlanta, Ga in 1986 after graduation. One day, as I wandered around the shops in Carmel, I went into a Cigar/Pipe store that had some knives on display. One knife caught my eye - it was solid stainless with a pocket clip and had a weird blade that was curved with serrations and a hole in it. Up until this point the knives I mainly carried were Benchmade/Pacific Cutlery butterfly knives or Buck 110's. Because of it's weirdness I bought the Spyderco Harpy.
As the year passed I found myself carrying it more an more. The pocket clip was more friendly and made it easy to get. The Hole made it easier to open than my Butterfly knives and less flashy. The serrations cut through the cardboard boxes at work better than my other knives too. Pretty soon the Spyderco Harpy was the only knife I carried and most of my pants had a wear mark on the right front pocket.
Flash forward to 1989 Daytona, Fla. - Spring Break. Returning to my hotel room after a long morning/afternoon of drinking/partying with a friend of a friend named Wayne, we get off on the wrong floor. As we head towards the elevators to go to the right floor we pass a open hotel room with 2 Drunk College (think Alabama) Football Linebackers, each weighing around 280 lbs or so, hanging out. As we pass by one of them looks over at Wayne, whose hair looked like the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls, and says "Nice Hair, Ha Ha". In a stroke of Genius, as we get to the elevator door and push the button, 150 lbs Wayne says "F--k You" ......... Shortly thereafter one of the Drunk College Linebackers says "What the Hell did you say Boy?" and we can feel the floor shift as they proceed to walk to us. I look for the stairs to get the hell out of there - there are no stairs nor any other way out except for past the 2 Drunk College Linebackers. I push the elevator button several times in the hope it gets there faster - no luck. I contemplate pushing Wayne at them like a offering and run the hell out of there - The fact that both of them fill the hall makes this not a option. "Looks like there is no place for you and your buddy to run to now, Smarta$$" says one, "Gonna take what you said out on your hide" says the other.
I'm drunk, I'm tired, I want nothing except to go pass out in my hotel room instead of a beating from 2 Drunk College Linebackers. Wait whats this clipped on my pants pocket? I pull my Spyderco Harpy out, click open it's blade, and say "Just back off and leave me the hell alone." Both of them stop in mid-stride looking at that curved serrated blade. At this point the slowest damn elevator finally arrives. Spyderco Harpy between me and them, Genius Wayne, whose eyes are bugged out too, and I back into the elevator. The doors close to comments of "What a p---y, pulling a knife." We ride up to our floor in silence.
When we get to our room and our friends, loud-mouthed Wayne starts up with "Man! it was cool, these 2 frikkin huge guys were going to stomp us and he pulled a knife and scared them off." I swung with my right hand and drilled Wayne right across the jaw then go find my sleeping bag and pass out.
Carried that Spyderco Harpy a little less after I got several other Spyderco's then finally gave it to a fellow soldier in the Army who needed a good knife. I miss it but I know it will serve him well.
As the year passed I found myself carrying it more an more. The pocket clip was more friendly and made it easy to get. The Hole made it easier to open than my Butterfly knives and less flashy. The serrations cut through the cardboard boxes at work better than my other knives too. Pretty soon the Spyderco Harpy was the only knife I carried and most of my pants had a wear mark on the right front pocket.
Flash forward to 1989 Daytona, Fla. - Spring Break. Returning to my hotel room after a long morning/afternoon of drinking/partying with a friend of a friend named Wayne, we get off on the wrong floor. As we head towards the elevators to go to the right floor we pass a open hotel room with 2 Drunk College (think Alabama) Football Linebackers, each weighing around 280 lbs or so, hanging out. As we pass by one of them looks over at Wayne, whose hair looked like the lead singer from Flock of Seagulls, and says "Nice Hair, Ha Ha". In a stroke of Genius, as we get to the elevator door and push the button, 150 lbs Wayne says "F--k You" ......... Shortly thereafter one of the Drunk College Linebackers says "What the Hell did you say Boy?" and we can feel the floor shift as they proceed to walk to us. I look for the stairs to get the hell out of there - there are no stairs nor any other way out except for past the 2 Drunk College Linebackers. I push the elevator button several times in the hope it gets there faster - no luck. I contemplate pushing Wayne at them like a offering and run the hell out of there - The fact that both of them fill the hall makes this not a option. "Looks like there is no place for you and your buddy to run to now, Smarta$$" says one, "Gonna take what you said out on your hide" says the other.
I'm drunk, I'm tired, I want nothing except to go pass out in my hotel room instead of a beating from 2 Drunk College Linebackers. Wait whats this clipped on my pants pocket? I pull my Spyderco Harpy out, click open it's blade, and say "Just back off and leave me the hell alone." Both of them stop in mid-stride looking at that curved serrated blade. At this point the slowest damn elevator finally arrives. Spyderco Harpy between me and them, Genius Wayne, whose eyes are bugged out too, and I back into the elevator. The doors close to comments of "What a p---y, pulling a knife." We ride up to our floor in silence.
When we get to our room and our friends, loud-mouthed Wayne starts up with "Man! it was cool, these 2 frikkin huge guys were going to stomp us and he pulled a knife and scared them off." I swung with my right hand and drilled Wayne right across the jaw then go find my sleeping bag and pass out.
Carried that Spyderco Harpy a little less after I got several other Spyderco's then finally gave it to a fellow soldier in the Army who needed a good knife. I miss it but I know it will serve him well.