The first knife I think I noticed was one of several Swiss Army Knives carried by my grandfather. He's the one who introduced me to pocketknives (and fishing tackle, and guns, and power tools, and car engines, and all those other things Mom didn't want me near
), and he was never without one. I doubt it was any one model; I know he owned several, along with a smattering of Schrade Old Timers, a few Imperials, and a few assorted others.
The first one I remember well, though, was the one he bought for me, when I was a whopping 8 years old. I couldn't take it home, lest Mom confiscate it; but whenever I was at his house, that was my knife. It was a Scout pattern: large spearpoint blade, awl/reamer, can opener, bottle opener, with jigged black scales and a bail to tie it to my belt so I wouldn't lose it.
Damn, I beat the crap outta that knife. Dropped it in creeks, caked it in mud, bounced it off of stones and sidewalks, left it in soggy dungaree pockets, got it full of sand and salt water down the shore, etc. He and I must've soaked it in a quart of Naval Jelly over the years to keep the rust under control, and I know I ground off a fair bit of blade learning to sharpen it on that old Norton India stone that used to belong to
his father.
Anyhow, I got older, and got interested in guitars and cars and girls and stereos and such (not necessarily in that order, of course!), and even bought a few knives of my own, and like most teenagers who can only think of what's new and shiny, I just kinda forgot about that old scout knife.
Well, Pop passed away ten years ago, from leukemia. My grandmother put aside his knives and tools and tackle and such for several years, until she decided to sell the big house and move out by my parents about four years ago. She wanted to get rid of a lot of the old stuff, and asked me to go through Pop's old gear, and take whatever I wanted to keep.
There, at the bottom of an old toolbox, covered in rust for thirty-some years, was that old scout knife! I guess I'm older and wiser now, 'cos it was like meeting an old, dear boyhood friend again.
I soaked it in naval jelly, sanded the blades down to bare metal, scraped the verdigris off the brass liners, ground the rust out of the pitting with brass brushes, re-profiled the edge, and otherwise cleaned it up the best I could. It's a Case (the only one I think my Pop ever owned), in CV of course, and although the blades still have some deep pits, it doesn't look too shabby these days. What's more, it still takes and holds a great edge. I even EDC it once in a while, when I'm feeling nostalgic. My only regret is that I don't have a son or grandson of my own to pass it down to!
