The old man was cheap. He didn't like to spend money. Even my mother admits to it now (she's 99.5+) I'm just stupid, so I approach things differently. Never did inherit anything, my mother burned it all up in her extended care facility. All the guns mostly went to my brother, who didn't/doesn't like guns. The 2 I got I moved along to my sons. Too much responsibility. Somehow she gave away all the knives he'd made to other people. I guess I was unworthy.

But he did have one knife I liked. It was useful to say the least. It had a long, thin blade. Like maybe 3", and it tapered down to a point. At the handle it was not more than a 1/4 inch or so. Not pretty like a Gil Hibben, or useful like a Bo Randall. It had its own uses. It had been sharpened so many times the "edge" was polished. I think it was made from an old saw blade, or a sliver of one. Purpose made. It could get into tight places, and was a workbench knife, not a carry knife. I guess any temper was long gone, and it didn't really matter. If it got dull, he just touched it back up. I don't much remember the handle or grip. I'm pretty sure it was wood, made no doubt from scraps he had lying around. If I made one, I'd use elephant ivory. Before it became illegal, I gave some away to one of the twins in GA.

Anyway, I'm thinking about it again. No idea where my mother gave it or threw it to. Only 2 people used it, Dad and I. I think it also had a wrap on the handle, made from a short length of fly line. The old man grew up in the depression and never wasted anything.

And the stories these knives could tell.......