You know you got em - "gas station" knives

[Bloodloss]

I carried a China frame lock tanto for 17 years. 7$ from a local pawn shop. How did I suffer so long? Ignorance. Plus, it was solid and cut everything I put it to. I made myself pitch it not too long ago, to look like less of a hoarder to my wife. When I was younger, knives used to be more of an afterthought. I'd spend hundreds on hunting gear, kill a deer and ask, "Who's got a knife?". I've learned a lot about knives since those days, especially since I figured out I can't cram any more guns in the safe.

 

[Eliteone2383]

No I dont have them lol. When I was a kid I had one. I broke the blade in half trying to ply 2x4s apart when making a tree fort.

 

[bobobama]

My brother went on a road trip down south one summer and brought me back this Tac-Force Speedster Model. It's a goofy little vaguely 1911-looking assisted folder. I just take it out of the box every few months to flip it and laugh.

First thing that came to mind when I saw your finger was "This knife will cut!"

 

[Dergyll]

First thing that came to mind when I saw your finger was "This knife will cut!"

It will cut...but WILL IT KEEL

 

[Dallas T]

I have been to the mountain top and I’ve seen the promise land.

Didn’t buy anything though.
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That’s a bold statement, let’s see if they deliver :

Typical gas station fodder, I spy NUMB CHUCKS, I wonder if they have NINJA STARS...
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Hell yea they got NINJA STARS
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What else

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And the hits keep coming

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That’s a lot of knives, quick trip to the restroom ... still more knives for sale in here.
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It only they would have something outside to tie it all up with...

Did not disappoint!

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That wouldn’t have happened to be in gatlinburg or pigeon forge?

 

[sonofwilfred]

 

[Billy The Hungry]

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.

I'm not crying, you're crying.

 

[AndrewH60]

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.

Awesome story, thanks for sharing it.

 

[Workingsloth777]

I used to have a “gold plated” dragon styled one that had a bottle opener but even in my youthful ignorance I could see that this bottle opener made no sense....

In order to use it you had to open the knife so the blade was out of the way and then I guess they expected you to use the blade as a handle (which was reasonable I guess seeing as the blade was probably the dullest part of the knife) and pray that you didn’t slip and sink it into your stomach.

That being said the rest of the dragon knife seemed totally reasonable to my 11 year old mind.

 

[J85909266]

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.

I really loved this story. Reminded me very much of my own Grandfather. Thank you.

 

[jackknife]

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.

Your grandpa sounds a lot like my Uncle Paul. Uncle Paul was a machinist with the Wright engine plant in Patterson New Jersey, and was one of those Great Depression era guys. He always had one or two of the freebie handout pocket knives from the tool reps that sold the tooling to the plant. They were the cheap 1950's little slip joint keychain size penknives with one or sometimes two thin carbon steel blades. Handle scales of fake white plastic pearl with the tool company logo on them. Bigger blade was about 2 inches, and when he gave me one, I could tell he'd sharpened it. It was like a fresh razor blade out of the pack. All he used was one of the medium India stones our of his machinist chest.

When he got done with it, all you had to do was wave it near your arm. You didn't have to shave any hairs, the hairs would jump off by themselves rather than face that blade. Uncle Paul caught the last train west in 1968, but I will always remember how sharp he got those cheap little free give away knives. Scary.