All About Pocket Knives

In my "new to AAPK" thread, I mentioned that my EDC includes a pair of Kabar 125x shorties. The actual models may vary from time to time, i.e., Kraton handle vs stacked leather, but both fit in the black plastic sheaths that come with the Kraton handle versions. Aside - these sheaths have 3 retention mechanisms which is unique, but fodder for another tale.

I carry at least 2 fixed blades every day and the reason all stems from an incident that occurred in August 1965.

I was 10 years old and helping (as much as a 10 yo can) my grandfather perform pre-harvest maintenance on a combine. Now these old combines were built pre-OSHA, pre-Texas Health Department or Texas Ag Department safety guidelines. Maintenance included hooking them up to a tractor PTO, get them moving and start adjusting and greasing.

As was and is typical of a lot of farmers, he was wearing a long sleeve shirt for sun protection. (I still do to this day.... skin cancer preventative, you know). While working on the one of the chain drives, his left sleeve came unrolled and got caught in the gears.

He rapidly pulled his Kabar 1232 and sliced the sleeve quickly enough that the material tore off rather than his arm.

He looked at me and said

"That's why you carry a fixed blade. You'll never get a folding knife out of your pocket in time."

I looked at him and in a typical kid's question, I asked him -

"Well, what if it had been your other arm?"

He first looked at me as if I was crazy, then his eyes got big. He walked over to the tractor, turned it off and said

"Let's go."

We hopped in the truck and drove 3 miles to town to the Western Auto. They were out of Kabar 1232s, so he bought a Western L46-5, the closest thing they had to a 1232 at the time. Then we went back to work.

A couple of weeks later, the store owner called him up and said

"Hey, Alvin. We got those little Kabars in if you still want one"

The next time I went to the farm (which was nearly every weekend), he gave me the Western L46-5 and said

"If you're smart enough to come up with that question, you're old enough to have a fixed blade."



So I was the only elementary school kid in town that had a fixed blade. I only got to use it for Boy Scout camp outs and Philmont 2x, but I had one. It did NOT make the 2 week trip to Charles L. Sommers WIlderness Canoe in ELy MN up into Canada because I was afraid of loosing the knife or damaging it or the sheath since it had been given to me by my grandfather, who unfortunately died the year before that trip from kidney cancer.

The knife I took on that trip was a ...... Kabar 1232, the first fixed blade I bought myself.

That incident was the planting of the "Fixed Blade Mania" that some say I afflicted with. I only have a few over 3000+ fixed blades, mostly Westerns and Kabars, and the acquisition has slowed over the years. I probably only but 30 or 40 a year now, mainly bayonets and swords.

I still have that first Western and first Kabar. My grandfather's Kabars unfortunately went to a couple of cousins who promptly lost them. My grandmother gave them to the cousins because "You already have a knife from him."

Here's a picture of the Western of this story,
And this is the same Western with the Kabar I bought and another one that is my 2nd 1232 when packing paired 1232s.
While I was in school (from 5th grade through college), throughout my active duty Navy career and my "corporate America" stint I carried a pair of folders LFP/RFP, just in case I needed a second knife. As times changed, so did the folders. Slip joints became lockbacks (110s/112s) became thumb stud versions (Buck 424/464/484).

A pair of fixed blades hung from my EMS duty belt from 1990 to present to get around the corporate BS about no fixed blades allowed ----

"I'm only going to have one duty belt - do you want me on the corporate first response team or not?"

After leaving corporate (We're sending your job to China. Don't let the door hit you in the....) I started carrying them every where except where legally not allowed - court houses, airports (post-9/11). I change what I pack to church to smaller B&T style knives, but I always have at least 2.

And when I go to a court house, I take the knives out of their sheaths and leave the sheaths on my belt. Hey, the sign says "No Guns or Knives", not a word mentioned about "Sheaths". Got a deputy raked over the coals by his supervisor over that one.

So I carry paired fixed blades

a) Just in case

and

b) in remembrance of my grandfather.

Great story!

Thank you
Ed

Sometimes I carry 2 folders, one clipped to my right pocket and a smaller one in the bottom of the other pocket.
I might try carrying a fixed blade after hearing your story. Thanks for sharing it here.

Oh my gosh....that is an epic story. Thank you soooooooo much for sharing!

You can't argue with that logic! Did your grandfather ever have that happen again? There are still several men around here that are missing fingers, hands and even an arm due to gettin' caught in corn pickers that were wrapped up in morning glory vines or some such.
Enjoyed the recollections, too! Keep 'em comin'!
Treefarmer

That story made me smile a bit...thanks

treefarmer wrote:You can't argue with that logic! Did your grandfather ever have that happen again? There are still several men around here that are missing fingers, hands and even an arm due to gettin' caught in corn pickers that were wrapped up in morning glory vines or some such.
Enjoyed the recollections, too! Keep 'em comin'!
Treefarmer

Noe, that was the first and only time it happened to him, but it had happened to many farmers who were his friends, acquaintances, or friends of friends/acquaintances and the stories got passed around every time it happened.

When farmers got together at Texas Agricultural Extension Service (now known as AgriLife) trainings and meetings, a lot of "Did you know so-and-so? Well, guess what happened......" stories and discussions would dominate.

Safety was always stressed with warnings to be careful. Almost every farmer back in the 50s/60s carried fixed blades for that reason. Didn't always work out well as sometimes the dragon just bites and bites fast, no way to avoid it, other than doing something stupid to begin with.

My grandfather ALWAYS stressed about turning the machinery off BEFORE working on it, unless there was no other choice, i.e., it had to be running for adjustments. These types of accidents are some of the reasons equipment now has shields over moving chains, gears and ptos. Most farm accidents can be boiled down to doing something stupid, doing something when tired or trying to shorten how long something should take. Or some combination of the 3.

The corn/wheat/milo picker/morning glory vines incidents were exceeded only by PTO accidents. Most of those were guys pushing down on the linkage trying to make the post hole digger dig faster rather than bounce around.

Enjoyed the story Wayne, and can relate to much of it. My cousins got all but one of my grandfather's knives - my sister got one. After several years of pestering her I now have that one, but those that went to my cousins are lost. They have no clue what happened to them.

I make a point to always stop and turn off any equipment I'm working on. But I've been guilty myself of pushing down on a post hole auger. A few years ago a neighbor was killed when the tractor hydraulics failed and a shredder fell on him while he was under it pulling out some baling wire that got tangled in the blades. He had parked the tractor and turned it off, but I guess he was in too big a hurry to take it back to his shop, or get some jack stands to support it.

Farm equipment is dangerous. My newest tractor is a 2013 model John Deere that they hardly had to paint, it has so many warning decals all over it.

Ken

Great, great endearing story. It goes without saying that you deserved your grandfather's knives. Thanks for sharing, Wayne. Oh, and to AAPK!

I enjoyed your story as well It reminded of a guy that used to work with me in the conservation corps. Being that he was from Texas and wore a very large black JB Stetson Cowboy Hat. You guessed it! We called him Tex! Your post reminds me of him because when he was younger he had caught his left arm in a combine and it tore him up pretty bad. The doctors stretched what muscle that was left down his arm which gave him some use of it. Hard working man, kind and considerate. My wife and I would go out with him and his wife a place called Nashville West for beer and dancing. He always held that arm in a awkward looking manner. It was hard to believe that he was wanted in Texas for murder.... He was arrested on a warrant in Reno while looking for work. I never heard from him again... Thanks for the post! I had not thought of Tex in over 30 years.

Terrific story. Thanks for sharing it with us.

Wayne, welcome to AAPK.

That was a good story, made even better by your innate ability to tell it in an entertaining manner. You very obviously have a gift for the narrative and I, for one, look forward to anything you might write here in the future and I strongly urge you to do so.

The story brought back a memory for me. When I was young, my Dad was the electrician at a large locally owned steel fabricating plant. When I was a senior in high school, 1965, and for the first two years of my collegiate endeavors, I worked there in the Spring Breaks, Summers and Christmas breaks to earn money for my tuition. Dad sacrificially payed what I could not cover.

I worked evenings and nights in what was known as "The Bolt Shop" where we manufactured roof bolts for coal mines. They ranged from 1/2" x 12" up to 1" x 24' and were constructed with the use of a large assembly wheel that had been designed and constructed by the owner's of the business.

Needless to say, there was little to no safety involved other than our own sense of caution.

The bolts had a large square head on one end and were threaded on the other. The supply of everything that went on the threaded end, PAL nuts, large 6" x 6" square washers and an expandable "chuck" that secured the bolt in the deep hole that would have been drilled for it, was immersed in some kind of lubricating rust preventive that would eventually burn your flesh after prolonged exposure. I got a good bit on my jeans one night and the skin on my thighs peeled like I had been sunburned.

So, we wore long cuffed, chemical resistant rubberized gloves. However, the life of the gloves was not great either, so we had to have new ones every few days.

One night, wearing a brand new pair, I looked away when I should not have and the tip of the middle finger of my right glove got caught in the machinery and it started pulling my arm into it. Because the glove was new and stiff and had never been worn before, I could not get my hand and arm out of it. The wheel kept turning, pulling me off my perch and I had to follow it around while trying to retrieve my arm, all the while the glove was being pulled further into it.

Finally, with the aid of two co-workers, we successfully removed my hand from the glove, which then disappeared into the gears and heavy duty chains that ran it.

The switch to kill the machine was too far away to be helpful.

I don't know if I even had a knife. Most likely, I did, as I was seldom without one, but it would have been an Old Timer stockman in my right-hand pocket. A sheath knife on my left side would have helped.

This whole event only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed longer.

Thanks for the great story, its moral significance and dredging up that memory for me.

Charlie Noyes

Charlie, I'm glad your co-workers were able to help prevent you losing an arm.

That's the thing with the dragon (my term for moving machinery) - one little screw up, one moment of inattention and boom, the dragon gets a meal.

I've been an EMT since 1990 and, unfortunately, been on way too many person vs machinery calls. They are never pretty and life changing not just for the patient, but also their family. Most of my calls have been person vs lawn mower. I still have yet to figure out why anyone with enough sense to pour piss out of a boot would EVER stick their hand or foot in the vicinity of moving lawn mower blades or do something as stupid as using their foot to push limbs into a chipper.

The farmers in the area I now live have either wised up or been very lucky. None of those calls in several years. Knock on wood.

Wayne, were you, by any chance, a Navy Corpsman?

And if so, I hope you didn't get that dreaded transfer to a Marine squad. I think you might have been too young for Viet Nam, though.

I was watching the power company trim and chip tree limbs on our street the other day.

Running across the top of the feeder chute was a long red bar, which I assumed was an emergency stop apparatus. Don't know if it stopped the engine or disengaged and stopped the chipper blades.

As I watched, I could see how easily a side branch on a heavier limb could swing to one side and grab the man doing the feeding and pull him into the chute.

Not a pleasant thought.

Charlie

One fall day while working down by the road about a150 feet from the house I heard a lawn more really working hard and look up and see my wife pushing the mower and dust and dirt just blowing all up around her,I look behind her and see where she has scalped all of the grass . Well when she got to me she said there was something wrong with the mower because it was so hard to push. At first glance I knew what was wrong the mower was set to low. This particular mower had wheel adjusters at each wheel that could be adjusted individually . So I bent down at the side of the mower. ( mower still running yes it was stupid) I adjusted the top left, then the top right, then the bottom left, and moved over to adjust the bottom right,it would not adjust like the others. Not thinnking I placed my left hand under the carriage to support and hold it steady while I pushed down on the adjustment lever. As soon as my hand went under the carriage the blade sliced the top half portion of skin off of my third finger on my left hand. Needless to say I was very fortunate and came away with that portion of my finger from that day forward with no feeling in that area of my third finger. The lesson learned was to turn off, shut down or stop any equipment while working on it. I have practiced that for many moons your welcome to do the same.

Buddy, so glad you were not hurt worse. That's the type of scenario that usually occurs with push mower incidents.

Even if this thread never gets a single soul to start carrying fixed blades, if it gets people to THINK about what they are doing around running machinery, I'll call that a win.

buddyie22,
Your story reminds me of an old neighbor man many years ago who had an encounter with a small push mower, this was probably around 1976.
His name was Mr. Carter and he lived just west of our house. A friend and I were at our cow pens which were almost a 1/4 mile from the houses. We heard Mr. Carter holler real loud, "ooooeee!" That was a greeting he and I used when we would see each other in the yard as his little house was about 600 feet west of our house, across the pasture. I told my friend, "Somethings wrong with Mr. Carter!" We got in the truck and hurried to his house, where we found him holding a finger he had stuck under his mower while it was running! We choked back the bleeding and headed for the hospital. The doctor insisted on lining the bone up and sewing the finger back in place, all the while Mr. Carter was telling him he would rather he just close up the wound and not deal with trying to save the finger. The doc won out and the finger pained the old feller the rest of his life. Mr. Carter was born December 18,1898, he had moved from our community to live with a daughter and passed away sometime during 1993, still fussing about the finger!
Treefarmer

I have a few acres down here in Texas that I cut regularly and some that I just leave as nature intended, mostly heavily wooded areas and drop offs. The land has lots of uneven areas with slopes and wavy landscape and sits on a hill. I have lots of majestic oak trees, elms and a dry creek bed that floods 100+ yards wide at times. I use an old reliable 30" Briggs and Stratton riding mower (30 years old) that I bought a few years before I had land so I'd cut my small yard with it. It was a little embarrassing. But I bought it because I knew one day I'd have land. It was a dream of mine since I was a kid, to live on a few acres away from it all, in nature and surrounded by wildlife. I rigged the riding mower to stay running when I get off to run alongside it where the brush is too dense and thick along the field fence and where I end my cutting; where the property drops off.

It all works well but only because my dad who worked the fields always took time to tell me about his stories and advice so that I'd be careful and think when working with dangerous equipment, sharp things and so on. His stories came to life and are imprinted in my mind. They were the best of times. But they also taught me to think before acting or you can lose an eye, a finger, toes, an arm or your life. Getting to my point - I carry a machete on the side of the riding mower, a pocket knife on my right pocket, a fixed blade on backside to my right and a dagger hooked onto the mower just below the steering wheel. In other words, I'm packing when I'm on that mower. It takes me 6 hours to get done and even though I'm hurting from chronic back pain and spasms I still enjoy every minute of it and always remember my dad's words of wisdom when ever I'm doing anything out there.

There's nothing like learning about safety and other important things the old fashion way - as a kid from my dad's story telling and advice. It becomes instinctive.