They are no-nonsense knives that keep going long past the point you have given up. They take tremendous amounts of abuse and keep asking for more, and they do it with a price tag that doesn't put a hurt on your wallet or a wife at your throat. They're unassuming, sexy, sleek pieces of sharpened steel that scream to the neanderthal inside each of us that is drowning in a world of politically correct touchy-feely garbage and make you want to go out, hunt something, kill it, and cook it over a fire you made with your own two hands, demanding the gods notice you and proclaiming to any and all that you are not just male but A MAN. They are the epitome of tools in a package that caters to all needs and tastes. The wow is that once you get the first one in your hand, once you pull it out of that black and tan box and feel the edge and get a good grip on the handle and grin maniacally as you wave it first right, then left, the right, then left again, grin growing by the second, that wow factor is that once you get that Becker knife in hand, you don't own it...
It owns you.