|Three Generations |
I was maybe 8 or 10 years old, Mom and Dad went on a trip to Canada and left me and my little brother home with our Great Aunt to babysit.
Dad brought me back a Barlow knife, and I promptly cut my finger with it. Amazingly, Mom didn't insist that it be taken away from me, just told me to learn from it.
Be careful when following the masses. Sometimes the M is silent.
|Not really from Vienna|
My Great-Uncle Jack gave me a Barlow when I was probably 6 or so. I think I lost it right away.
My dad bought me a Victorinox Boy Scout Swiss Army knife when I was around 10. I got home, pulled it out of the box and promptly sliced my thumb open. I was sitting in the kitchen and was so afraid my dad would take it away from me that I just sat there with my hand in my lap gripping my thumb until it stopped bleeding.
I don’t still have it. I lost it after I went to boot camp and my dad gave a bunch of my stuff away and turned my bedroom into an office.
|If you're gonna be a |
bear, be a Grizzly!
I had a Cub Scout knife like the one a couple posts back. Lost it over the years. The oldest one I still have is the Uncle Henry trapper that my grandpa gave me sometime in my teen years. I don't carry it anymore, as I don't want to lose it.
Here's to the sunny slopes of long ago.
I really don't remember what was my first knife, it was probably a folder like a cub scout knife. My Dad was a knife guy, as well as my Grandfather. I'm pretty sure I was around 7-8, we used to fish and I lived around some woods.
"Nature scares me" a quote by my friend Bob after a rough day at sea.
An Ulster Boy Scout knife, given to me by my Dad. Closed it once on my knuckle (only once). Still have it. Still have my Tote-n-Chip card too.
"The days are stacked against what we think we are." Jim Harrison
Mine was either a Queen, or Case small two or three blade pocket knife. I had both, but can't remember which was first.
There was a hardware store downtown close to my dad's office, and we'd walk over there sometimes when he took me to work with him. They had a rotating rack full of pocketknives, and a large whetstone that was dished out from a lot of customer use... I thought that was the coolest thing in the world.
My dad was not a gun/knife kind of guy, but he knew I was interested in pocketknives, so he got me my first one when I was somewhere around 8 years old, or so.
I don't have that first (or second, third, etc) knife, but I've never gone a day since then without at least one pocket knife on me....
Oddly enough, I don't remember. I can almost remember, but it just won't crystallize. One of the first was a fairly inexpensive sheath knife, five- or six-inch blade and leather sheath. Used it as a tackle box knife, even though it would be more reasonably a hunting knife.
My first knife was one that I found on a family fishing trip when we lived in Rapid City. I was probably 7 or 8 years old at the time. It has a fixed blade, stag handle, with a leather sheath. I gave it to my son when he started hunting.
Like guns, Love Sigs
|non ducor, duco|
My first knife was a victorianox swiss army knife.
I got it by collecting marlboro cigarette boxes when they had the "marlboro miles" redemption program.
My parents owned a bar and I had more miles then I knew what to do with. Ended up with almost everything they offered in triplicate at least.
The knife just stuck with me. As a 13 year old I carried it everywhere until I reached my mid twenties and learned about higher quality blades.
I still have it 30 years later.
First In Last Out
the first knife i really recall was a small Uncle Henry stockman given to me by my grandfather on my first day working for him. my family owns a construction and rental business, so i was working at a young age. i was 8 or 9, cleaning up and basically getting in the way. i think it broke his heart when i didn't become a carpenter. i like steel better.
"She's got a cherry-handled pistol in her lollipop pocket." Five Horse Johnson
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