I don't have a pic of it because it is an ugly, sloppy, piece of junk. However, I have a "gas station knife" that I will never willingly get rid of. My late grandfather was of the depression era and lied about his age in order to sneak into the Navy during WWII in order to just have SOMETHING in his life. The man never took anything for granted...especially a DEAL.
So about 10 years ago, I think, he somehow came across a clutch of those terrible "25 knives for $19.99" boxes at a flea market. Wow, 25 knives for less than a buck a piece? That's just savvy shopping. Anyway, he was excited and showed them to me. He got 4 or 5 out and asked if I would like to have one. It was so cute. These things are rattleboxes made from Chinese war ration cans, but he presented them like he was offering me a selection of Jaguar keys. I picked one with a plain black handle and had a thumbstud that I didn't think would probably fall off before I got home, slid it into my pocket without really looking at it, and gave him a hug with all earnest appreciation for the gift. The man never let you leave without giving something of himself.
I got back to the house and got ready to toss the beater into the toolbox I keep in my laundry room for mundane household projects, but I decided to open it up first. That thing was a lightsaber. My grandfather had obviously worked on the edge by hand. It was honed and polished to hair-popping sharpness. I had no idea that you could sharpen hardened tin foil to such a degree with a single oiled medium Arkansas stone, but he had done it. Typical grandpa. Turn absolute garbage into something that will actually function.
My grandpa walked West almost 2 years ago at the age of 92. He didn't have much so didn't leave much. A couple of belt buckles, a cheap gold ring with a non-precious red stone worn thin over 60 years of everyday wear, lots and lots and lots of memories of laughter and lessons I still draw upon... and that stupid piece of junk knife. Still sitting in my tool box, still sharp as the devil's tongue since I have never gotten around to needing to use it, but I like to keep it as a reminder of him. Something unexpected that I will often forget about yet stumble across from time to time and brings a smile to my face. My grandpa, king of turd-polishing. I have never met another person who could do so very much with so very little.
