Very wise to conclude an experiment once you are clear of the results.
Very good advice. In the past couple of months I've learned I'm a scout knife kind of guy. Carrying the Wenger SI has been as natural as breathing, and I have got by just as well as with my old scout knife dad gave me 55 years ago.
It's made me reflect some on that tact. At age 12 I started carrying a scout knife. I joined the army a year out of high school and left the scout home so itwouldn't get "lost", and just used an army issue scout knife. The all steel thing some call a demo knife.
That worked for a long while till I bought a Buck stockman in 1967, but even then I still kept the scout knife around. In the early 70's I bought my first Victorinox sak. That replaced the army demo knife. Over the next couple decades I tried sodbusters, peanuts, stockmen. No matter what was in my pocket, there was a sak like a pioneer, or a Wenger SI in a belt pouch with a small light. I have to face it; for the past 55 years there has been a scout knife or a pattern similar to, on me continously no matter what other pattern was the knife of the month, or year, or whatever.
I guess all boiled down and rendered, strained and filtered, it comes out scout knife pattern.
The nice thing about an experiment like this is it makes us face two important things; who we are, and what we do. Maybe we need to have some age and bark on us sometimes to face up to and figure that out. Who are we? Distill out the macho bs, the over enthusiasticness of youth, add in some of the cynicness of the autum years, and you start to see things a little more clearly.
Because of the nature of the timing, we never knew our fatheres in their younger day, so we don't really know what made then who they were. We can guess, but never be sure. Certainly we never had to fight a world war, live through a depression, or any of the other things that may have shaped them. We grew up in a different set of circumstances, thus became different people. Maybe we should keep in mind what worked for our fathers may not be the ticket for us.
My dad got by with a peanut, but that was him, and his final deffinition of who he was. I grew up with that scout knife he gave me, and it holds alot of memories, that pattern. I look at a scout pattern and I can't help recall the adventures that Dave, Ev, Bobby, and me would get into. I remember a certain silver moustached ex-marine scout master. I certainly recall my first girlfriend, Suzy, and me going about Wheaton on that old Zundapp 250 motorcycleI had in my teenage years, and how I would use the screw driver blade to work on the carborator frequently to keep it running. And at 17 years of age with forged draft cards, buying beer illeagally, and using that same scout knife to open cans or bottles of beer. ( Most kids today won't think that once upon a time you needed a church key to drink a can of beer, and the bottle did not have twist off tops either.)
Maybe I need to go to a few yard sales and pick up a scout knife or Kamp King or two. Certainly I'm going to keep carrying the Wenger SI till then.
After 55 years, why fight it?
I am jackknife, and I am a scout knife addict.