Gee, I thought I was a snob.
I've reached the point in life where I can pretty much purchase the things I like.
Oh, to be sure, I have to budget, but if I want a certain knife or firearm, my wife and I plan for it around our other bills and figure out when it's a good time to acquire it.
For example, I wanted to slather my Harley handbars with chrome. By using the sales and waiting almost four months, I got what I wanted. Without too much pain, I got 1,300 bucks worth of chrome for 1,000 dollars.
That's not bad, until you look at my recent knife purchases.
You would expect more Pro Techs, Microtechs and Striders.
However, I've found more mundane box cutters. Granted, any new business drains you of ready cash, but I'm not that destitute that I can't have a new toy every few months.
My Li'l Temperance has been in my pocket over six months, a new record for a fickle guy like me. I bought a new jacket; yikes, fashion over firearms!
Here's my point. I was cleaning the house last night. (Yes, bikers clean, and we're very thorough about it.) The worst spot in the house was my end table by my 'TV watchin' place.' Like most guys, I like to diddle with new toys, guns, knives, new magazines and other bric-a-brac while I'm wasting time in front of the tube. The table was so junky that I sent a pic of it to Betty. Kind of a "can you believe this pile" photo.
I got to looking at the pic myself. Next to a crappy can of diet soda was a SuperKnife. Beside that was a one year old Buck mini-Alpha Hunter. Amid those was a can of hand cream.
Whether it's accidental or deliberate, I've come to depend on knives worth less than 100 bucks. I've ditched the bling and surrounded myself with good, dependable tools for reality! Yikes! I'm an adult!
Oh, the horror! I remember that happening to my parents' neighbors! Guys that could buy a '66 Mustang Cobra from their checkbook drove 4-door Buicks home to the 'burbs!
Worse yet, I rank hand cream up there with sharp blades! In fact, the hand cream was closer to the chair's arm than the knives.
Rather than admit that I'm older, I choose to say I'm losing that snob image of gleaming, expensive metal. However, the concept scares me. My fear is that the next time I want to "buy something sharp" it will be a new can-opener!