Unsensible Manly Things
I wanted to write about manly things, but what could be more manly than high speed automobile jumps on your average stretch of I-675?
Seems the Dukes of Hazard County have moved up to Sugarcreek Township around Dayton. Or a least their half-wit cousin, Numbnuts, has.
Get a load of the video: http://www.wired.com/autopia/2010/08/video-insane-100-mph-crash-caught-on-tape/
The 19-year old genius decided he needed to pass a police car at 100 miles an hour and the grassy median between highways was the perfect place for it. The dashboard camera of the cruiser caught the action as Numbnuts shot past him, used the metal crash barrier as a ramp and catapulted himself and his car up and into a bridge support. Eee-haw!! Ride 'em cowboy!!
I have been known to state the gene pool needs a little natural chlorination. If you don’t believe me, watch the video again. All we can hope is he left a little highly specialized tissue in the wrecked car and is now out of the procreation lottery. I understand he survived in critical condition. I’m sure someone loves him, but…..
Sensible Manly Things
I have a friend who had list of things he thinks every man should be able to do with some degree of ability. As I remember them and in no particular order they were:
Ride a horse;
Build a fire;
Shoot a gun and hit your target;
Pitch a tent without instructions;
Read a map (I think he meant topographic and not road.);
Sharpen a knife.
Looking at the current crop of young men around me, I have to wonder if their list might be:
Change or recharge batteries in an ipod/pad/phone thingie;
Drive a shift stick;
Open a beer bottle without an opener;
Golf just over par;
Make reservations.
That’s my list drawn from my interactions with them. I’m sure their list isn’t quite so vacuous.
My list from my younger days was:
Darn socks and stitch a button on;
Sharpen a knife;
Build a fire;
Cook a simple meal more or less from scratch (No TV dinners—Do they even make them any more?)
Change a flat;
Put a bit on a horse.
I asked my wife to name 3-5 things she thinks any man should be able to do. I think I caught her off guard. After sputtering a bit she came up with three:
Drive a car;
Cook a subsistence meal (no peanut butter and fried banana sandwiches, men!);
Operate a computer.
Seems modern woman has lower expectation levels than I would have thought.
With time comes maturity or at least some kind of an excuse for it. My basic list now is:
Keep a knife sharp;
Stitch a button;
Drive a stick shift with a clutch;
Build a fire;
Cook a simple meal for two;
Know which target needs to be shot and when.
Of course this is all minimum listing and just a little sexist. Everyone should be able to change a tire or diaper, gas up a car, fill the washer reservoir and burp a baby. I used to say change plugs, replace hoses and belts, but every time I stick my head under the hood my brain spins.
I don’t know about darning socks, but everyone should be able to fix a button, repair a hem or a small rip. This doesn’t seem too unreasonable. Preparing food seems like such a useful skill, but I know people who couldn’t grill a steak or bake a potato if their life depended on it.
You should be able to balance a checkbook, clean a bathroom or a fish (your choice) and paint a wall.
All these lists deal with survival at some level. There also seems to be a note of caution that more primitive skills could be called upon. Maybe I should add knap flint and shoot a sling-shot.
What’s your list? I’ll publish it.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
On the Edge – Continued!
“Morning comes early in northern Greenland. The bright sun made the igloo walls glow with inner light. The howling wind had abated. I had survived the arctic storm.”
“I pressed on the snow door plug, but it failed to move. I was frozen in. The storm had formed a layer of ice on the igloo protecting me but imprisoning me as well. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You simply chopped a new hole in the ice wall and crawled out. I reached for my smatchet, knowing the heavy blade would make fast work of this problem. It wasn’t in my sheath. It wasn’t in my sleep bag. It wasn’t loose on the floor. “
“I saw it in my mind’s eye. I had placed it under supplies on the sled last night so I wouldn’t lose it in the darkness. I had intended to slip it back in my sheath before I pulled the snow cork in behind myself. It was still outside.”
“I was trapped. I had no way out.”
Sven paused to let the enormity and irony roll over us. He was trapped in the classic locked room with no way out, but clearly he had escaped.
After a few moments, I was about to break the silence when Rodger spoke up.
“Are you telling us you’re dead? You look very much alive to me.”
“I thought you would immediately see how I escaped my predicament. I needed a knife and didn’t have a knife, so I improvised.”
It must have been clear from our faces we had no idea what he did.
“The solution,” Sven said “was alimentary. I dropped my trousers, had a bowel movement and shaped the still warm excrement into a stout, knife-shaped form. It soon froze and hardened and I chopped a hole big enough to wiggle through. I found my knife where I put it, recovered my gear and freed the dogs from their ice covered dens.”
“The rest of the trip was uneventful.”
Sven went back to his paper and the knot drifted apart. I waited until everyone had left before I leaned over and partially pulled his newspaper down.
“So, how does a turd knife lay claim to the expression of ‘two is one and one is none?”
“It doesn’t. But when I returned to camp, I requisitioned a second knife. The quartermaster wanted to know what happened to the first one and I explained that two is one …”
“I supposed,” I interrupted him, “he gave you one.”
“He was a very intelligent man and immediately saw the sound logic in it.”
Having satisfied my question, Sven sat back to finish his paper, but not before snagging my untouched spare brandy.
I was about to comment on the theft when from behind the newspaper came, “After all, two is one…”
“I pressed on the snow door plug, but it failed to move. I was frozen in. The storm had formed a layer of ice on the igloo protecting me but imprisoning me as well. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. You simply chopped a new hole in the ice wall and crawled out. I reached for my smatchet, knowing the heavy blade would make fast work of this problem. It wasn’t in my sheath. It wasn’t in my sleep bag. It wasn’t loose on the floor. “
“I saw it in my mind’s eye. I had placed it under supplies on the sled last night so I wouldn’t lose it in the darkness. I had intended to slip it back in my sheath before I pulled the snow cork in behind myself. It was still outside.”
“I was trapped. I had no way out.”
Sven paused to let the enormity and irony roll over us. He was trapped in the classic locked room with no way out, but clearly he had escaped.
After a few moments, I was about to break the silence when Rodger spoke up.
“Are you telling us you’re dead? You look very much alive to me.”
“I thought you would immediately see how I escaped my predicament. I needed a knife and didn’t have a knife, so I improvised.”
It must have been clear from our faces we had no idea what he did.
“The solution,” Sven said “was alimentary. I dropped my trousers, had a bowel movement and shaped the still warm excrement into a stout, knife-shaped form. It soon froze and hardened and I chopped a hole big enough to wiggle through. I found my knife where I put it, recovered my gear and freed the dogs from their ice covered dens.”
“The rest of the trip was uneventful.”
Sven went back to his paper and the knot drifted apart. I waited until everyone had left before I leaned over and partially pulled his newspaper down.
“So, how does a turd knife lay claim to the expression of ‘two is one and one is none?”
“It doesn’t. But when I returned to camp, I requisitioned a second knife. The quartermaster wanted to know what happened to the first one and I explained that two is one …”
“I supposed,” I interrupted him, “he gave you one.”
“He was a very intelligent man and immediately saw the sound logic in it.”
Having satisfied my question, Sven sat back to finish his paper, but not before snagging my untouched spare brandy.
I was about to comment on the theft when from behind the newspaper came, “After all, two is one…”
Sunday, August 8, 2010
On the Edge…An Adventure.
It was one of those snowy, blustery winter nights Cleveland is so well known for. On such a night only the mad or foolhardy venture outside. I had already decided to spend the night at the Explorer’s Club.
“Why not?” I thought. “My wife is out of town, the club’s larder is well stocked, as is their bar, and the small member suites are more than snug and comfortable.”
Don’t bother trying to find us. We don’t advertise. The outside of the building looks like an abandoned building complete with nine-foot rusty chain link fence. The only membership requirement is a life of exploration and adventure. If your idea of adventure is Grand Theft Auto III, don’t call us; we’ll call you.
The chairs were arranged in the Members’ Reading Room in clusters. Of course, conversations were discouraged in the room according to club by-laws. I found both a book I had been meaning to read and an overstuffed chair just the right distance from the roaring eight-foot fireplace. At my signal Butterling, our majordomo, brought my standing overnight order which he quietly placed on the end table I shared with another club member. He was politely and quietly ensconced behind a foreign newspaper in the other chair.
I had just relaxed and began to luxuriate in the warmth of the fire when one of the members, taking a shortcut to the door, noticed my two double brandies and cleared his throat in disapproval. His rude behavior was not lost on me.
“You know, two is one and one is none,” I foolishly snapped back at him.
The rude member was already out of earshot and if he had heard me, chose to ignore me. Unfortunately, my neighbor behind the newspaper choose not to.
“Yimminy, that’s so true.” It was Sven Olsen, perhaps the oldest and most gregarious club member. He folded the newspaper and placed it on his lap.
“Did I ever tell you how I invented that saying?” he said, raising his voice over the crackle of the fireplace.
This created a dilemma. We were in the reading room and I was loath to surrender my chair by moving to the conversation room. Sven was a prolific storyteller and he was setting up to spin a yarn. While I doubted the whole cloth of his stories, I had previously done enough research to verify many of his tales.
“No, you never did,” I said, throwing caution to the winds. What kind of adventurer would let a few rules stand in his way? I said the fatal words. “Tell me more.”
“It was summer 1955, and I was between classes at the University of Helsinki.”
“I didn’t know you had a degree, old man,” Rodger interrupted. “What was it in?” One of the newest members, Rodger had not learned proper manners and most likely never would. I still regretted not blackballing him.
Sven paused to take Rodger in. “It was a non-degree program. I was pioneering independent study. Later they gave me an honorary degree in…. but that’s another story.” Sven paused and got back on track.
“With the summer free and troubled by a significant lack of funds, I was casting about for employment. Word reached me that the CIA was looking for….”
“You worked for the Central Intelligence Agency? Rodger interrupted again. “What? We didn’t have any spies that spoke Swedish?”
“What your spies can or cannot speak is of little concern to me.” Sven’s accent flared up as he lost his temper. “Nor did I know they were the CIA at the time. I was a bright young man aware of world events. I suspected it was some government agency, possibly one of Britain’s MI groups.”
“Since the cold war was heating up and the Nordic communities had no love for the Russians, I took the job. On the surface it was a simple job. I would ski from various base camps to specific points in northern Greenland where I would place explosive charges and set them off at specific times. Someone, somewhere collected measurements for some purpose.”
“It was an adventure, my friends.” His accent faded again. I often wondered about Sven. He spoke several languages without accent. Even old agents have to retire somewhere. “There was no GPS, no apps for your cell phone; just you and your dog team, a chronograph, slide rule and sexton.”
Sven looked over to Rodger, whose investments had tanked when the housing market stumbled. He was attempting to get a government jump-start loan for a new business.
“For two weeks at a time,” Sven continued, “you lived on what you and the dogs could carry and by your wits. Independent, free and living on the edge. There was no bailout if you made a mistake.”
“It was a harsh, cold, white landscape filled with beauty that could surprise you and turn on you at any moment. I spent many nights watching the Northern Lights pirouette across the dark skies.”
“There were other teams, but I was the most successful, reaching specific locations by specific deadlines and it became a matter of pride. I carried few extra supplies, reasoning my mobility and success depended on selecting only the most important items. I chose carefully.”
“Besides the technical equipment, I needed dried fish to feed the dogs and myself, a small stove, a double-bladed smatchet and, of course, a short barreled shotgun set up for slug. Polar bears….” Sven gave a little involuntary shiver. “Nasty little javlarna.”
By now Sven was in his element and most of his accent had vanished. His tale had captured our imaginations. Several of the other members gravitated to the growing knot of listeners. I even caught sight of Butterling hovering on the outer edge of audible range. Even Rodger knew better than to interrupt the yarn.
“What I didn’t take was a tent. Instead I planned on making what Americans call an igloo. I used the smatchet to serve as a snow cutter and spatula. With a little practice I was able to cut and place rings of snow blocks to make a passable shelter in less than 30 minutes. The dogs, born and bred for this; simply curled up in a snow cave I’d carve for them. This system worked remarkably well. At least until I made a mistake.”
Smatchet reported to belong to Sven Olsen.
From Cleveland Explorer Club Archives
“It was my third trip out. The employer was more than happy with my notes and placement of the explosive charges. Noting how well I handled the long and arduous treks, they asked me to travel even farther north on longer trips. I was happy with myself for earning both their confidence and the increase in hazard pay.”
On my third day of the last week out, a storm closed in almost without warning. I barely had time to get the dogs sheltered, watered and fed before the storm was on me.”
“It was white-out conditions and the wind stung like a whip. I started cutting snow blocks, but the storm and gusting winds made work all but impossible. Yet I couldn’t stop. I had to finish. The igloo meant survival. Freezing and in the dark I was working more from memory and force of habit. I cut the last block, dragged my sleeping bag in and pulled a snow block in behind me. It was like corking a bottle from the inside.”
“I sat for a few moments in the darkness listening to the storm grow worse and pondering my fate. Tired and exhausted I crawled into my sleeping bag and shivered myself to sleep.” Sven paused and look deeply at each of us. “I didn’t know if I would wake up or not.”
…………To be continued
“Why not?” I thought. “My wife is out of town, the club’s larder is well stocked, as is their bar, and the small member suites are more than snug and comfortable.”
Don’t bother trying to find us. We don’t advertise. The outside of the building looks like an abandoned building complete with nine-foot rusty chain link fence. The only membership requirement is a life of exploration and adventure. If your idea of adventure is Grand Theft Auto III, don’t call us; we’ll call you.
The chairs were arranged in the Members’ Reading Room in clusters. Of course, conversations were discouraged in the room according to club by-laws. I found both a book I had been meaning to read and an overstuffed chair just the right distance from the roaring eight-foot fireplace. At my signal Butterling, our majordomo, brought my standing overnight order which he quietly placed on the end table I shared with another club member. He was politely and quietly ensconced behind a foreign newspaper in the other chair.
I had just relaxed and began to luxuriate in the warmth of the fire when one of the members, taking a shortcut to the door, noticed my two double brandies and cleared his throat in disapproval. His rude behavior was not lost on me.
“You know, two is one and one is none,” I foolishly snapped back at him.
The rude member was already out of earshot and if he had heard me, chose to ignore me. Unfortunately, my neighbor behind the newspaper choose not to.
“Yimminy, that’s so true.” It was Sven Olsen, perhaps the oldest and most gregarious club member. He folded the newspaper and placed it on his lap.
“Did I ever tell you how I invented that saying?” he said, raising his voice over the crackle of the fireplace.
This created a dilemma. We were in the reading room and I was loath to surrender my chair by moving to the conversation room. Sven was a prolific storyteller and he was setting up to spin a yarn. While I doubted the whole cloth of his stories, I had previously done enough research to verify many of his tales.
“No, you never did,” I said, throwing caution to the winds. What kind of adventurer would let a few rules stand in his way? I said the fatal words. “Tell me more.”
“It was summer 1955, and I was between classes at the University of Helsinki.”
“I didn’t know you had a degree, old man,” Rodger interrupted. “What was it in?” One of the newest members, Rodger had not learned proper manners and most likely never would. I still regretted not blackballing him.
Sven paused to take Rodger in. “It was a non-degree program. I was pioneering independent study. Later they gave me an honorary degree in…. but that’s another story.” Sven paused and got back on track.
“With the summer free and troubled by a significant lack of funds, I was casting about for employment. Word reached me that the CIA was looking for….”
“You worked for the Central Intelligence Agency? Rodger interrupted again. “What? We didn’t have any spies that spoke Swedish?”
“What your spies can or cannot speak is of little concern to me.” Sven’s accent flared up as he lost his temper. “Nor did I know they were the CIA at the time. I was a bright young man aware of world events. I suspected it was some government agency, possibly one of Britain’s MI groups.”
“Since the cold war was heating up and the Nordic communities had no love for the Russians, I took the job. On the surface it was a simple job. I would ski from various base camps to specific points in northern Greenland where I would place explosive charges and set them off at specific times. Someone, somewhere collected measurements for some purpose.”
“It was an adventure, my friends.” His accent faded again. I often wondered about Sven. He spoke several languages without accent. Even old agents have to retire somewhere. “There was no GPS, no apps for your cell phone; just you and your dog team, a chronograph, slide rule and sexton.”
Olsen demonstrating his Igloo building skills for BBC journalists
From the Cleveland Explorer Club Archives
“For two weeks at a time,” Sven continued, “you lived on what you and the dogs could carry and by your wits. Independent, free and living on the edge. There was no bailout if you made a mistake.”
“It was a harsh, cold, white landscape filled with beauty that could surprise you and turn on you at any moment. I spent many nights watching the Northern Lights pirouette across the dark skies.”
“There were other teams, but I was the most successful, reaching specific locations by specific deadlines and it became a matter of pride. I carried few extra supplies, reasoning my mobility and success depended on selecting only the most important items. I chose carefully.”
“Besides the technical equipment, I needed dried fish to feed the dogs and myself, a small stove, a double-bladed smatchet and, of course, a short barreled shotgun set up for slug. Polar bears….” Sven gave a little involuntary shiver. “Nasty little javlarna.”
By now Sven was in his element and most of his accent had vanished. His tale had captured our imaginations. Several of the other members gravitated to the growing knot of listeners. I even caught sight of Butterling hovering on the outer edge of audible range. Even Rodger knew better than to interrupt the yarn.
“What I didn’t take was a tent. Instead I planned on making what Americans call an igloo. I used the smatchet to serve as a snow cutter and spatula. With a little practice I was able to cut and place rings of snow blocks to make a passable shelter in less than 30 minutes. The dogs, born and bred for this; simply curled up in a snow cave I’d carve for them. This system worked remarkably well. At least until I made a mistake.”
Smatchet reported to belong to Sven Olsen.
From Cleveland Explorer Club Archives
“It was my third trip out. The employer was more than happy with my notes and placement of the explosive charges. Noting how well I handled the long and arduous treks, they asked me to travel even farther north on longer trips. I was happy with myself for earning both their confidence and the increase in hazard pay.”
On my third day of the last week out, a storm closed in almost without warning. I barely had time to get the dogs sheltered, watered and fed before the storm was on me.”
“It was white-out conditions and the wind stung like a whip. I started cutting snow blocks, but the storm and gusting winds made work all but impossible. Yet I couldn’t stop. I had to finish. The igloo meant survival. Freezing and in the dark I was working more from memory and force of habit. I cut the last block, dragged my sleeping bag in and pulled a snow block in behind me. It was like corking a bottle from the inside.”
“I sat for a few moments in the darkness listening to the storm grow worse and pondering my fate. Tired and exhausted I crawled into my sleeping bag and shivered myself to sleep.” Sven paused and look deeply at each of us. “I didn’t know if I would wake up or not.”
…………To be continued
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Will Kydex be illegal in New York? Stay tuned...
Pressing On
I decided my sheath-making activities needed a press; a real, honest-to-God working, Kydex-shaping, fully functional press. I didn’t need to juggle six components (count ‘em: two lids, two foams and two clamps) while trying to compress the foam and get the clamps on it. I had reached the limits of human tolerance, pressed beyond all reasonable expectations and … and … well; I saw a neat design on YouTube and knew I could copy it.
Not my design, but I’m pretty proud of it. My wife found the green high density foam at Marc’s. They had garden kneelers cheaply priced, less than 2 bucks each. I already had the hinges and double sticky tape to hold the foam to the plywood.
I also bought smaller, 1/8-inch pop rivets and small number 6 brass washers for spacers and was ready to give it a go. And go I did.
Somehow, I kept thinking Kydex sheaths had to be shaped like fitted leather sheaths. I picked an oval shape, laid out my Kydex. I spent more time measuring this time, but you know the old saying, “Measure twice. Cut once.”
Me too, but I didn’t realize the backing washer was larger than the rivet flange. This put all the washers too close to the blade and because of my fugal Kydex ways, too close to the edge. I trimmed the sheath on a metal cutting band saw and sanded the edges with a little sanding drum on my drill press.
Shaping the rivets with a block of metal and a ballpeen hammer was both easier and more enjoyable than I thought it would be.
The empty sheath was the first go, but beginner’s luck found me on the second try.
For my second try I cut a little more Kydex (about 3.5X the blade width). I elected to go with a square edged sheath with rounded corners.
A square helped me place the rivets better and I used small brass spacer rivets to float the belt loop off the knife sheath. I remembered to take into account the size of the backing rivet as well. The other big change: I taped the blade with two layers of painter’s masking tape.
I used a hunk of iron cut to size to make belt loops and I heated the metal a little to help keep the Kydex flexible while it’s stretching and shaping in the press. Belt loop making is a separate function and still under review and revision.
The sheath worked out better this time.
“The dark blue Kydex doesn’t go with the turquoise knife handle,” my wife said. I asked for her opinion and got it.
“I know, but I bought this color because it was cheap. Nobody else wanted it and I knew I could work and play with it without too much guilt.”
Kydex takes light coats of spray paint quite nicely… hmmmmm. Color matching may not be too much of a problem.
On The Knife Front.
New York, New York, why would I want to live there? Please don’t tell me Times Square.
The New York Times, June 17, 2010:
“At least 14 retail stores in Manhattan — including major retailers like the Home Depot, Eastern Mountain Sports and Paragon Sports — have been selling illegal knives,….”
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/18/nyregion/18knives.html?_r=2&ref=knives
What are these illegal knives? They appear to be any knife you can manipulate to open with one hand.
“What makes these knives so dangerous is the ease with which they can be concealed and brandished,” said Mr. Vance (spokesperson from the prosecutor’s office).
Well I looked at the picture of these dangerous knives and noticed Emerson, SOG Spyderco, and Smith & Wesson brand knives. All of the knives are consider tactical knives because they open with one hand, lock open and can be clipped to stay where you put them. I think of these knives as safety knives because the blade doesn’t un-expectantly snap shut. But you know it’s not about protection for police, firemen or other New Yorkers. It’s about money.
The Times glosses over this and reports the fines have reached 1.9 million greenbacks.(!) NYC gets almost 1 million of it, the state gets 0.19 million and the rest, 760 thousand dollars goes to unidentified “law enforcement agencies.” Could that be the District Attorneys Office?
And what happens to the 43 knives purchased as part of this sting operation to protect New York citizens? I bet the nicer ones will end up in someone’s pocket.
I decided my sheath-making activities needed a press; a real, honest-to-God working, Kydex-shaping, fully functional press. I didn’t need to juggle six components (count ‘em: two lids, two foams and two clamps) while trying to compress the foam and get the clamps on it. I had reached the limits of human tolerance, pressed beyond all reasonable expectations and … and … well; I saw a neat design on YouTube and knew I could copy it.
Kydex press waiting for hot plastic and one C-clamp.
Not my design, but I’m pretty proud of it. My wife found the green high density foam at Marc’s. They had garden kneelers cheaply priced, less than 2 bucks each. I already had the hinges and double sticky tape to hold the foam to the plywood.
I also bought smaller, 1/8-inch pop rivets and small number 6 brass washers for spacers and was ready to give it a go. And go I did.
Somehow, I kept thinking Kydex sheaths had to be shaped like fitted leather sheaths. I picked an oval shape, laid out my Kydex. I spent more time measuring this time, but you know the old saying, “Measure twice. Cut once.”
Me too, but I didn’t realize the backing washer was larger than the rivet flange. This put all the washers too close to the blade and because of my fugal Kydex ways, too close to the edge. I trimmed the sheath on a metal cutting band saw and sanded the edges with a little sanding drum on my drill press.
Shaping the rivets with a block of metal and a ballpeen hammer was both easier and more enjoyable than I thought it would be.
The empty sheath was the first go, but beginner’s luck found me on the second try.
For my second try I cut a little more Kydex (about 3.5X the blade width). I elected to go with a square edged sheath with rounded corners.
A square helped me place the rivets better and I used small brass spacer rivets to float the belt loop off the knife sheath. I remembered to take into account the size of the backing rivet as well. The other big change: I taped the blade with two layers of painter’s masking tape.
I used a hunk of iron cut to size to make belt loops and I heated the metal a little to help keep the Kydex flexible while it’s stretching and shaping in the press. Belt loop making is a separate function and still under review and revision.
The sheath worked out better this time.
“The dark blue Kydex doesn’t go with the turquoise knife handle,” my wife said. I asked for her opinion and got it.
“I know, but I bought this color because it was cheap. Nobody else wanted it and I knew I could work and play with it without too much guilt.”
Kydex takes light coats of spray paint quite nicely… hmmmmm. Color matching may not be too much of a problem.
On The Knife Front.
New York, New York, why would I want to live there? Please don’t tell me Times Square.
The New York Times, June 17, 2010:
“At least 14 retail stores in Manhattan — including major retailers like the Home Depot, Eastern Mountain Sports and Paragon Sports — have been selling illegal knives,….”
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/18/nyregion/18knives.html?_r=2&ref=knives
What are these illegal knives? They appear to be any knife you can manipulate to open with one hand.
“What makes these knives so dangerous is the ease with which they can be concealed and brandished,” said Mr. Vance (spokesperson from the prosecutor’s office).
Well I looked at the picture of these dangerous knives and noticed Emerson, SOG Spyderco, and Smith & Wesson brand knives. All of the knives are consider tactical knives because they open with one hand, lock open and can be clipped to stay where you put them. I think of these knives as safety knives because the blade doesn’t un-expectantly snap shut. But you know it’s not about protection for police, firemen or other New Yorkers. It’s about money.
The Times glosses over this and reports the fines have reached 1.9 million greenbacks.(!) NYC gets almost 1 million of it, the state gets 0.19 million and the rest, 760 thousand dollars goes to unidentified “law enforcement agencies.” Could that be the District Attorneys Office?
And what happens to the 43 knives purchased as part of this sting operation to protect New York citizens? I bet the nicer ones will end up in someone’s pocket.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Future Sharp
Bad news, my computer is sick, perhaps terminal. While smoke did not pour out the back, I kept getting notices of physical data dump in progress every time I went to use it. The IT guys are trying to recover my data, but I think I’m on my way to a new laptop.
However, the international brotherhood of blade spies was able to e-mail one last tid-bit which I was able to follow up on before the computer incident.
For those of us following the introduction of the five-bladed disposable shavers, I have astonishing news.
Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act, I have discovered an unnamed company has been developing a 7-blade disposable razor which will truly be revolutionary and provide an impossible close shave by anyone’s definition.
The company, whose identity was redacted in the report, provides scientific technical support for CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research. During the search for the Higgs boson, CERN has produced small, but stable amounts of condensed matter typically existing only at the heart of collapsed stars. This material has been named Collapsium, for the strong gravity field it produces.
I’ve discovered plans that call for the incorporation of Collapsium at the edge of each multi-razor blade. The dense material will create gravitational anomalies causing microscopic shifts in time during shaving. This will allow you to shave, before they grow to the surface of your face, tomorrow’s whiskers today. Under normal use, your beard will never produce stubble, leaving your face baby-butt smooth. Why any man wants a baby butt for a face is beyond me, but I do know a few butts.
The classified document was obtained from the EPA because of an environmental disposal problem. Frankly, the physics and quantum mechanics were too advanced for me. I was able to connect, thanks to Facebook, with Professor Ian Michal Mountebank PhD, retired, of the University of Barsoon, who explained the problem.
I M (as he likes to be called) suggested the main difficulty is the disposal problem. While the blades will never wear out, since they are cutting tomorrow’s whiskers, they will be thrown out in favor of a newer novelty. The collection of such powerful time distorters in a landfill will cause a temporal rift connecting past and future razors.
This rift or wormhole will cause the future blades and surrounding garbage to be (have been, are, were – English has such difficulties with time travel) sucked back to the present. The paradox of having the same razor twice in the same time frame will exacerbate the rift causing more future and past razors and garbage to continually build up in a vicious cycle. Finally, sufficient Collapsium will collect in each landfill and the resulting gravitational influence will overcome electron cloud repulsion of normal matter.
A black hole the size of Cleveland will form and end all life on earth in a matter of hours.
The company is seeking an exception from EPA landfill regulations.
However, the international brotherhood of blade spies was able to e-mail one last tid-bit which I was able to follow up on before the computer incident.
For those of us following the introduction of the five-bladed disposable shavers, I have astonishing news.
Thanks to the Freedom of Information Act, I have discovered an unnamed company has been developing a 7-blade disposable razor which will truly be revolutionary and provide an impossible close shave by anyone’s definition.
The company, whose identity was redacted in the report, provides scientific technical support for CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research. During the search for the Higgs boson, CERN has produced small, but stable amounts of condensed matter typically existing only at the heart of collapsed stars. This material has been named Collapsium, for the strong gravity field it produces.
I’ve discovered plans that call for the incorporation of Collapsium at the edge of each multi-razor blade. The dense material will create gravitational anomalies causing microscopic shifts in time during shaving. This will allow you to shave, before they grow to the surface of your face, tomorrow’s whiskers today. Under normal use, your beard will never produce stubble, leaving your face baby-butt smooth. Why any man wants a baby butt for a face is beyond me, but I do know a few butts.
The classified document was obtained from the EPA because of an environmental disposal problem. Frankly, the physics and quantum mechanics were too advanced for me. I was able to connect, thanks to Facebook, with Professor Ian Michal Mountebank PhD, retired, of the University of Barsoon, who explained the problem.
I M (as he likes to be called) suggested the main difficulty is the disposal problem. While the blades will never wear out, since they are cutting tomorrow’s whiskers, they will be thrown out in favor of a newer novelty. The collection of such powerful time distorters in a landfill will cause a temporal rift connecting past and future razors.
This rift or wormhole will cause the future blades and surrounding garbage to be (have been, are, were – English has such difficulties with time travel) sucked back to the present. The paradox of having the same razor twice in the same time frame will exacerbate the rift causing more future and past razors and garbage to continually build up in a vicious cycle. Finally, sufficient Collapsium will collect in each landfill and the resulting gravitational influence will overcome electron cloud repulsion of normal matter.
You are entering the black hole zone. Please fasten your seatbelt!
A black hole the size of Cleveland will form and end all life on earth in a matter of hours.
The company is seeking an exception from EPA landfill regulations.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Gun's N' Knives
GUNS
It’s been a busy week. One of the clubs I shoot at had a monster-sized bull’s-eye match. It’s called a 2700, which means you shoot 270 rounds each with a maximum value of 10 points. The targets are concentric circles on paper and you plink away at 50 and 25 yards. One handed, please, with no external support the way Roy Rogers and Tom Mix did it.
How big? Very big! So big the Army, Marine and All-National Guard shooting teams bring their armorers in semi-trailers. We even had four people from Australia come shoot with us.
Each day starts with a bang, provided by a black powder brass cannon the English captured during the Crimean war, which is immediately followed by raising the flag and the National Anthem. It’s a heck of great way to start each day!
On Sunday, some of the shooters, having way too much fun the night before, wadded the cannon with their undies. I’ve never seen a bra fly that far before!
Me? No, I didn’t shoot. I displayed knives, yakked with the shooters about life, liberty, safety and self–reliance. The topics seem to roll around to knives quite often.
KNIVES
I’ve been working on a knife a friend gave me. He started making knives by stock removal and it was one of his early tries. It’s very nice and I’ll make a Kydex sheath for it. (I just purchased almost a FULL sheet of 0.048inch thick midnight blue Kydex to work with!!!)
I didn’t care for the knife’s edge angle, so I got out my Lansky sharpener and three sessions later I had a nice 20 degree edge. From there it only took an hour to sharpen it down to the fine stone.
Everyone should at sometime in their life; preferably earlier than later; change the edge of a medium size knife by hand. It’s good for your character. It’s not the work, even though that’s a good thing. It’s not the new appreciation of a well turned edge, and that’s a better thing in itself. No, it’s the sense of accomplishment you get from finishing what you start.
That’s one of the reasons I’m interested in sheaths.
It’s been a busy week. One of the clubs I shoot at had a monster-sized bull’s-eye match. It’s called a 2700, which means you shoot 270 rounds each with a maximum value of 10 points. The targets are concentric circles on paper and you plink away at 50 and 25 yards. One handed, please, with no external support the way Roy Rogers and Tom Mix did it.
How big? Very big! So big the Army, Marine and All-National Guard shooting teams bring their armorers in semi-trailers. We even had four people from Australia come shoot with us.
Each day starts with a bang, provided by a black powder brass cannon the English captured during the Crimean war, which is immediately followed by raising the flag and the National Anthem. It’s a heck of great way to start each day!
On Sunday, some of the shooters, having way too much fun the night before, wadded the cannon with their undies. I’ve never seen a bra fly that far before!
Me? No, I didn’t shoot. I displayed knives, yakked with the shooters about life, liberty, safety and self–reliance. The topics seem to roll around to knives quite often.
KNIVES
I’ve been working on a knife a friend gave me. He started making knives by stock removal and it was one of his early tries. It’s very nice and I’ll make a Kydex sheath for it. (I just purchased almost a FULL sheet of 0.048inch thick midnight blue Kydex to work with!!!)
The finished edge on its future sheath
I didn’t care for the knife’s edge angle, so I got out my Lansky sharpener and three sessions later I had a nice 20 degree edge. From there it only took an hour to sharpen it down to the fine stone.
Everyone should at sometime in their life; preferably earlier than later; change the edge of a medium size knife by hand. It’s good for your character. It’s not the work, even though that’s a good thing. It’s not the new appreciation of a well turned edge, and that’s a better thing in itself. No, it’s the sense of accomplishment you get from finishing what you start.
That’s one of the reasons I’m interested in sheaths.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Knife Sheath - Two
My first attempt with Kydex didn’t turn out too good. And no, I don’t have any images to show for it. I was unhappy with the foam thickness in the press. The low density foam needed to be compressed so much making the press almost impossible to use. Plus, it didn’t transfer the force to mold the hot Kydex sharply around the knife.
So I cut the foam in half.
Because of my design I wasn’t able to get the entire strip of Kydex in the toaster oven. This was complicated by the rack in the toaster oven. I knew from previous attempts if I left it in there too long I’d get parallel stripes on the Kydex. Those lines look good on a strip steak, but not on a knife sheath.
I started with two sheets of tactical black Kydex. Tactical means they can charge more than if it was pink. Both sheets were 0.095 inches thick. One piece was about six inches longer than the other so I could turn it into a belt loop. I used two little brass decorative rivets to hold the pieces in registry and placed the sheets in the oven.
As soon as the plastic was floppy, I pulled the hot pieces out, slipped the knife in and slapped everything into the press. Two squeeze clamps held everything together while I placed C-clamps on either side of the knife handle.
Now the hard part………Waiting.
Let me get in a plug for Ansell HyFlex gloves. They are yellow Kevlar gloves with a thin black rubber coating on the palms and finger tips. They take all the hesitation out of grabbing hot Kydex. (http://www.ansellpro.com/hyflex/11-500.asp).
By now the sheath has cooled. Still didn’t get that high definition impression of the knife in the plastic I wanted. Maybe it wasn’t warm enough, maybe it is too thick, maybe the low density foam is too soft. Next iteration, I’ll make changes.
I used a number two pencil (brings back memories of test taking in school – make sure you completely fill in the box with your number 2 pencil….) and drew the outline I wanted. I marked where the decorative faux rivets would go and set up my drill press. I soon had the rivets where I thought I wanted them. Next step: cutting it out.
In my excitement of actually making a sheath, I kinda forgot that I don’t have a band saw. My original plan was to use one at work during my lunch hour. That also was forgotten. I grabbed a coping saw and started cutting. Time for sanding.
I bought a set of little sanding drums for my drill press and before I knew it I was rounding the edges and shaping the sheath into not what I wanted, but by my placement of those damn rivets.
I used a piece of wood with rounded edges to act as a belt template and heat gunned the excess Kydex in to a belt loop. Two 7/32-inch holes for my Chicago screws and the sheath was finished.
I didn’t like it. The brass rivets looked hokie and I was concerned about their holding ability.
Online I found pricey black aluminum pop rivets, but I wanted to keep the cost down on this experimental project. I replaced all the brass rivets with aluminum pop rivets with backing washers. (They popped right out with a pair of side cutters so maybe my concerns about them were valid!) I peened the back of the rivets down with a ball-peen hammer using a bar of polished steel as an anvil. This worked well.
(back side)
So, there it is. Not quite what I wanted, but it’s a functional sheath, holds my knife securely, and protects me and the blade should I take a tumble with the knife on.
I’m going try thinner Kydex, maybe a combination of thickness: thick to form the back of the sheath, thin to mold the knife. And I’ve got to replace the grill in the oven. I need to plan rivet placement more and I need to find a better way of belt looping it. I’ve seen the new Tec Locs, but I’m not sure about them. I want to keep the overall cost low. It is, after all, just a hobby.
Oh yes, let’s not forget the foam in the press. My wife found what I think is the perfect foam. It even has a cross-hatch pattern.
So I cut the foam in half.
Because of my design I wasn’t able to get the entire strip of Kydex in the toaster oven. This was complicated by the rack in the toaster oven. I knew from previous attempts if I left it in there too long I’d get parallel stripes on the Kydex. Those lines look good on a strip steak, but not on a knife sheath.
I started with two sheets of tactical black Kydex. Tactical means they can charge more than if it was pink. Both sheets were 0.095 inches thick. One piece was about six inches longer than the other so I could turn it into a belt loop. I used two little brass decorative rivets to hold the pieces in registry and placed the sheets in the oven.
As soon as the plastic was floppy, I pulled the hot pieces out, slipped the knife in and slapped everything into the press. Two squeeze clamps held everything together while I placed C-clamps on either side of the knife handle.
Now the hard part………Waiting.
Let me get in a plug for Ansell HyFlex gloves. They are yellow Kevlar gloves with a thin black rubber coating on the palms and finger tips. They take all the hesitation out of grabbing hot Kydex. (http://www.ansellpro.com/hyflex/11-500.asp).
By now the sheath has cooled. Still didn’t get that high definition impression of the knife in the plastic I wanted. Maybe it wasn’t warm enough, maybe it is too thick, maybe the low density foam is too soft. Next iteration, I’ll make changes.
I used a number two pencil (brings back memories of test taking in school – make sure you completely fill in the box with your number 2 pencil….) and drew the outline I wanted. I marked where the decorative faux rivets would go and set up my drill press. I soon had the rivets where I thought I wanted them. Next step: cutting it out.
In my excitement of actually making a sheath, I kinda forgot that I don’t have a band saw. My original plan was to use one at work during my lunch hour. That also was forgotten. I grabbed a coping saw and started cutting. Time for sanding.
I bought a set of little sanding drums for my drill press and before I knew it I was rounding the edges and shaping the sheath into not what I wanted, but by my placement of those damn rivets.
I used a piece of wood with rounded edges to act as a belt template and heat gunned the excess Kydex in to a belt loop. Two 7/32-inch holes for my Chicago screws and the sheath was finished.
I didn’t like it. The brass rivets looked hokie and I was concerned about their holding ability.
Online I found pricey black aluminum pop rivets, but I wanted to keep the cost down on this experimental project. I replaced all the brass rivets with aluminum pop rivets with backing washers. (They popped right out with a pair of side cutters so maybe my concerns about them were valid!) I peened the back of the rivets down with a ball-peen hammer using a bar of polished steel as an anvil. This worked well.
Front side- Yes, there is a knife in all that Kydex.
(back side)
So, there it is. Not quite what I wanted, but it’s a functional sheath, holds my knife securely, and protects me and the blade should I take a tumble with the knife on.
Not quite the form fitting I had in mind
I’m going try thinner Kydex, maybe a combination of thickness: thick to form the back of the sheath, thin to mold the knife. And I’ve got to replace the grill in the oven. I need to plan rivet placement more and I need to find a better way of belt looping it. I’ve seen the new Tec Locs, but I’m not sure about them. I want to keep the overall cost low. It is, after all, just a hobby.
I do like the new Tec-Locs, the locking bar is no longer a seperate piece, but built in
Oh yes, let’s not forget the foam in the press. My wife found what I think is the perfect foam. It even has a cross-hatch pattern.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Kydex – Close Encounters of the First Kind
It’s hard to imagine all the materials used to sheath knives. I can imagine a by-gone craftsman carefully fitting pieces of wood to create a protective pocket around an edge. He had a few different options on how to bind the two sides together. Plant fibers or hair could be twisted to create cord and then wrapped around the two sides of a wood sheath. The discovery of glue opens up many possibilities: glue the two wood halves together or use it to create build-up layers around the sheath. I’m sure glued impregnated paper or cloth was the micarta of the day.
Animal skin is an obvious solution. It could be sewn with other animal parts even as we speak of using cat gut or deer tendons today. It could also be decorative. I can see my fixed blades with a coyote or skunk fur sheath, especial with the skunk’s white stripe. It says something about the man carrying a blade in a black and white fur sheath. What, I don’t know, but it says something.
Once we learned how to tan hide, leather became even more useful. We still value leather as a sheath material. I have friends who carry Ka-Bar fighting knives while hunting. They want the silence of leather in the bush.
Metal seems to have been reserved for sword and other thin blades. Many art knives sport thin metal sheaths, but few of us would carry an art knife out on a picnic much less to a caribou hunt in Alaska. They seem to have fallen out of fashion. I don’t know of any factory produced fixed blade knife in a metal sheath. Is it weight? Maybe it’s concern about corrosion? Or are we just worried about dulling the edge every time the knife goes in or out of the sheath?
Kydex seems to be the answer. Wears like iron, isn’t harmed by moisture and sweat like leather and it doesn’t corrode the metal. It can be a little noisy in the field. In an urban environment the background noise out weighs the little ‘zith’ the blade makes slipping from the Kydex.
Since it’s moldable at low temperatures everyone with an old toaster oven or heat gun is trying their hand at it. YouTube is filled with how-to videos to initiate you into the secret brotherhood of Kydex workers. Why shouldn’t I be included in this group?
So I bought foam to make a press, bought Kydex, Chicago screws, leather working rivets, plywood to hold the foam. I already have a heat gun, an old toaster oven, an assortment of clamps, hammers, metal straight edges and drill bits. The sky’s the limit. My first target is an original Blackjack fixed blade I found at a gun show. It cleaned up nice and is very collectable, but I want that poor man’s Randall for my days in the woods.
I cut the Kydex to the size I wanted and with a heat gun folded the plastic sheath and pressed it flat. Hmmm. I didn’t get the flat fold Murray Carter shows in his video.
I reheated the folded Kydex and the crease goes away! It’s now cooked-noodle flexible and I’m trying to the position the knife and the floppy Kydex in my foam press. I found stiff thick foam, but not the high density foam recommended. I’m hoping that a nine and a half inch thick foam press will compress enough to flatten the foam and shape the Kydex. It’s harder than it looks.
I stand on the press and my body weight proves to have enough force to compress the foam. Unfortunately it’s very hard to apply the large wooden handscrew clamps from that position. What am I going to do?
About that time my wife sticks her head out the door and enters the Kydex fray.
“Well, got any fruits of your labor yet?” she says.
“Say,” I said, “why don’t you give me a hand.”
I quickly move the press to the plywood and saw horse work table I have set up in my summer workshop, AKA: driveway. I had the wooden screw clamps and while she’s opening the jaws, I press down on the press only to have the plywood teeter-totter up on me. She reverses course, pushes the table down and I reposition the press.
The first clamp goes on without too much trouble. We’re both conscious of the Kydex cooling off in the foam press. I pick up the press, do my imitation of Hercules crushing a phone book and she slaps the clamp on the press and my finger.
Before I can say anything she starts tightening the clamp.
“Not my finger… Not my FINGER… NOT MY FINGER!” This seems to be the only intelligent thing I can say.
“Oops…Sorry!”
That crises out of the way, we get the press closed and let it cool. Twenty minuets later the press comes open, and I understand how a baker feels when his cake fails to rise. The fold in the Kydex has bulged, the knife is at an angle to the sheath and the Kydex has parallel lines embossed into the surface. Oh…from the toaster oven grill. And I don’t know how I’m going to attach this sheath to a belt.
Still I’m encouraged. Easier than wood working and it doesn’t have the odor that skinned skunk pelt has. More on this project later!
Animal skin is an obvious solution. It could be sewn with other animal parts even as we speak of using cat gut or deer tendons today. It could also be decorative. I can see my fixed blades with a coyote or skunk fur sheath, especial with the skunk’s white stripe. It says something about the man carrying a blade in a black and white fur sheath. What, I don’t know, but it says something.
Once we learned how to tan hide, leather became even more useful. We still value leather as a sheath material. I have friends who carry Ka-Bar fighting knives while hunting. They want the silence of leather in the bush.
Metal seems to have been reserved for sword and other thin blades. Many art knives sport thin metal sheaths, but few of us would carry an art knife out on a picnic much less to a caribou hunt in Alaska. They seem to have fallen out of fashion. I don’t know of any factory produced fixed blade knife in a metal sheath. Is it weight? Maybe it’s concern about corrosion? Or are we just worried about dulling the edge every time the knife goes in or out of the sheath?
Kydex seems to be the answer. Wears like iron, isn’t harmed by moisture and sweat like leather and it doesn’t corrode the metal. It can be a little noisy in the field. In an urban environment the background noise out weighs the little ‘zith’ the blade makes slipping from the Kydex.
Since it’s moldable at low temperatures everyone with an old toaster oven or heat gun is trying their hand at it. YouTube is filled with how-to videos to initiate you into the secret brotherhood of Kydex workers. Why shouldn’t I be included in this group?
So I bought foam to make a press, bought Kydex, Chicago screws, leather working rivets, plywood to hold the foam. I already have a heat gun, an old toaster oven, an assortment of clamps, hammers, metal straight edges and drill bits. The sky’s the limit. My first target is an original Blackjack fixed blade I found at a gun show. It cleaned up nice and is very collectable, but I want that poor man’s Randall for my days in the woods.
I cut the Kydex to the size I wanted and with a heat gun folded the plastic sheath and pressed it flat. Hmmm. I didn’t get the flat fold Murray Carter shows in his video.
I reheated the folded Kydex and the crease goes away! It’s now cooked-noodle flexible and I’m trying to the position the knife and the floppy Kydex in my foam press. I found stiff thick foam, but not the high density foam recommended. I’m hoping that a nine and a half inch thick foam press will compress enough to flatten the foam and shape the Kydex. It’s harder than it looks.
I stand on the press and my body weight proves to have enough force to compress the foam. Unfortunately it’s very hard to apply the large wooden handscrew clamps from that position. What am I going to do?
About that time my wife sticks her head out the door and enters the Kydex fray.
“Well, got any fruits of your labor yet?” she says.
“Say,” I said, “why don’t you give me a hand.”
I quickly move the press to the plywood and saw horse work table I have set up in my summer workshop, AKA: driveway. I had the wooden screw clamps and while she’s opening the jaws, I press down on the press only to have the plywood teeter-totter up on me. She reverses course, pushes the table down and I reposition the press.
The first clamp goes on without too much trouble. We’re both conscious of the Kydex cooling off in the foam press. I pick up the press, do my imitation of Hercules crushing a phone book and she slaps the clamp on the press and my finger.
Before I can say anything she starts tightening the clamp.
“Not my finger… Not my FINGER… NOT MY FINGER!” This seems to be the only intelligent thing I can say.
“Oops…Sorry!”
That crises out of the way, we get the press closed and let it cool. Twenty minuets later the press comes open, and I understand how a baker feels when his cake fails to rise. The fold in the Kydex has bulged, the knife is at an angle to the sheath and the Kydex has parallel lines embossed into the surface. Oh…from the toaster oven grill. And I don’t know how I’m going to attach this sheath to a belt.
Still I’m encouraged. Easier than wood working and it doesn’t have the odor that skinned skunk pelt has. More on this project later!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Hell's Angels and Boy Scouts
Oh! Those wacky folks on the other side of the Atlanta Ocean.
I just found an article from June 16, 2010 about attacking Hell’s Angels with a puppy. Now I just finished a book on the Hell’s Angels and frankly siccing a puppy on them would not be my weapon of choice. Unless a puppy is what you call a baby dragon. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7830524/German-throws-puppy-at-Hells-Angels-bikers-then-flees-on-bulldozer.html
It turns out a German student, possibly with a death wish, mooned and then flung a puppy at a group of Hell’s Angels. He then tried to make his get away on a stolen bulldozer at 3 miles an hour. One can almost see the youth holding his pants up with one hand flogging away at the dozer with other hand, shout
The paper didn’t report if he moved the dozer’s blade up and down in the menacing manner. The Telegraph reports he made good his get-a-way. He was later arrested at home. I can only surmise the Angel’s were laughing too hard to chase after him.
Last September Great Britain’s Boy Scouts were advised not to carry their pen knives, even when in uniform. An English newspaper, The Guardian, reports that “Scouts are so closely associated with pocket knives that the term Boy Scout knife is a synonym for penknife.” Bad news from the nation that once carved out an empire so bold, so large, the sun never set on it and is now afraid of Boy Scouts. It must have been that deadly combination of folding blade and can opener that was more than anyone could take.
In a related story, it was reported the whirring noise reported by so many Britons was identified as Lord Baden-Powell spinning in his grave. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Baden-Powell,_1st_Baron_Baden-Powell
I just found an article from June 16, 2010 about attacking Hell’s Angels with a puppy. Now I just finished a book on the Hell’s Angels and frankly siccing a puppy on them would not be my weapon of choice. Unless a puppy is what you call a baby dragon. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7830524/German-throws-puppy-at-Hells-Angels-bikers-then-flees-on-bulldozer.html
It turns out a German student, possibly with a death wish, mooned and then flung a puppy at a group of Hell’s Angels. He then tried to make his get away on a stolen bulldozer at 3 miles an hour. One can almost see the youth holding his pants up with one hand flogging away at the dozer with other hand, shout
“Faster! Faster you fool. They are almost upon us!”
The paper didn’t report if he moved the dozer’s blade up and down in the menacing manner. The Telegraph reports he made good his get-a-way. He was later arrested at home. I can only surmise the Angel’s were laughing too hard to chase after him.
Last September Great Britain’s Boy Scouts were advised not to carry their pen knives, even when in uniform. An English newspaper, The Guardian, reports that “Scouts are so closely associated with pocket knives that the term Boy Scout knife is a synonym for penknife.” Bad news from the nation that once carved out an empire so bold, so large, the sun never set on it and is now afraid of Boy Scouts. It must have been that deadly combination of folding blade and can opener that was more than anyone could take.
In a related story, it was reported the whirring noise reported by so many Britons was identified as Lord Baden-Powell spinning in his grave. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Baden-Powell,_1st_Baron_Baden-Powell
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
April Showers And All That Jazz
“April showers bring May flowers that bloom in June...” singers croon, but we know they bring grass. Healthy, tall growing, vibrant, green grass that has to be cut on a regular basis.
I popped off the blade on my grass cutter to give it a much needed sharpening. I’m always amazed by rotary mower blades, only the tips are sharp. I always thought they would be more effective if the entire blade was razor sharp.
Not so, grass cutter man. Only the tips of the blade need to be sharpened. More on that later.
I use to take my blade into a mower shop where I envisioned a skilled certified technician (in a white lab coat, of course) who would carefully grind and polish the blade with a set of water cooled stones at some precise angle dictated by the blade manufacture. Careful to take only an equal amount of metal from both blade ends, he would constantly check the blade’s balance so it will spin true.
Not so, grass cutter man. Some guy eyeballs the edge while passing it over the course grind wheel. Sparks shoot out the back of the grinder and maybe he makes a second pass to see more sparks if he missed the fireworks last 4th of July.
I hate it when reality collides with my imagination! So I bought a disk-shaped stone with a plastic collar/guide that fits my cordless drill and now I just clap the blade in a vice and grind it myself. Then when I’m done, I can use a fine carbide stone to polish up the rough spots.
I was thinking while clamping it in the vice, how fast does the edge move? I took a measurement from the blade axle center to the leading and trailing edge. The back of the blade is 4.5 inches from the center while the leading edge is 9.5 inches. Since the blade spins at 3600 rpm that means the blade is spinning at, ahh, let’s see, 3.1415 times 0.375, carry the 7…
Wow, the front of the blade zips along at 101 miles per hour while the back of the blade is loafing along at a measly 48 miles per hour. The blade is only five inches long, so if I’m mowing an inch a second, (as a trivial exercise to the reader I let you calculate how fast I’m walking), a one inch section of the blade spins 60 revolutions over that one inch of grass.
Speaking for myself, cutting grass has a new dimension of fun!
I popped off the blade on my grass cutter to give it a much needed sharpening. I’m always amazed by rotary mower blades, only the tips are sharp. I always thought they would be more effective if the entire blade was razor sharp.
Not so, grass cutter man. Only the tips of the blade need to be sharpened. More on that later.
I use to take my blade into a mower shop where I envisioned a skilled certified technician (in a white lab coat, of course) who would carefully grind and polish the blade with a set of water cooled stones at some precise angle dictated by the blade manufacture. Careful to take only an equal amount of metal from both blade ends, he would constantly check the blade’s balance so it will spin true.
Not so, grass cutter man. Some guy eyeballs the edge while passing it over the course grind wheel. Sparks shoot out the back of the grinder and maybe he makes a second pass to see more sparks if he missed the fireworks last 4th of July.
I hate it when reality collides with my imagination! So I bought a disk-shaped stone with a plastic collar/guide that fits my cordless drill and now I just clap the blade in a vice and grind it myself. Then when I’m done, I can use a fine carbide stone to polish up the rough spots.
I was thinking while clamping it in the vice, how fast does the edge move? I took a measurement from the blade axle center to the leading and trailing edge. The back of the blade is 4.5 inches from the center while the leading edge is 9.5 inches. Since the blade spins at 3600 rpm that means the blade is spinning at, ahh, let’s see, 3.1415 times 0.375, carry the 7…
Wow, the front of the blade zips along at 101 miles per hour while the back of the blade is loafing along at a measly 48 miles per hour. The blade is only five inches long, so if I’m mowing an inch a second, (as a trivial exercise to the reader I let you calculate how fast I’m walking), a one inch section of the blade spins 60 revolutions over that one inch of grass.
Speaking for myself, cutting grass has a new dimension of fun!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
On the Road from Atlanta
The Monday after the Blade Show was a travel day. As predicted by Nostradamus on my last blog entry, it was a long day.
On behalf of 100,000 drivers I want to acknowledge and thank the unofficial pit-stop of America. They are clean, well lit and air-conditioned. Thanks McDonalds! I never would have made it home without you.
Some people think trips are fueled by gasoline. My trip home was fueled by McDonald’s iced-coffees!
Now comes the work of filing all the literature, business cards and notes for future blogs. My parting lines come from the music world, but pertain to knives and many aspects of daily life: C sharp or B flat.
On behalf of 100,000 drivers I want to acknowledge and thank the unofficial pit-stop of America. They are clean, well lit and air-conditioned. Thanks McDonalds! I never would have made it home without you.
Some people think trips are fueled by gasoline. My trip home was fueled by McDonald’s iced-coffees!
Now comes the work of filing all the literature, business cards and notes for future blogs. My parting lines come from the music world, but pertain to knives and many aspects of daily life: C sharp or B flat.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
On the road to Atlanta: Day Five
This was the final day at the Blade Show. The show officially ended at 3:00 but the vendors start packing up earlier. In some cases earlier meant yesterday by being willing to negotiate better prices. Everything you don’t have to pack-up and ship home is a savings in both money and effort. Others started packing up this morning, organizing boxes; making sure things were ready to repack. I can’t help wonder if there might not be a flea market mentality at 2:30. Especially with custom makers who needed a few more sales.
I finished at noon. For me, today was a seminar day. I wanted to see Historical Sword-fighting Techniques by the Reinhardt Legacy Team. Hank Reinhardt started Museum Replicas years ago because he believed people had an interest in sword and sword fighting. As he tried to duplicate medieval combat he discovered or re-discovered the techniques contemporary fighters wrote about. Hank has passed on but his students carry on. Watching them fight explains a lot about both knives and swords.
A Hit! Good thing the tip is padded!
Titanium Knives are both the bane and Holy Grail of knife making. Strong, light, non-magnetic, resistant to normal oxidation -- this wonder metal has a serious draw-back.
Is it toxic? Nope, we implant titanium in the body all the time. Too expensive? Price never stopped a custom knife maker. Do people laugh and call us girly-men for carrying titanium blades? Well, yes they do, but it’s not because of the blade. The metal can only be hardened to Rockwell 40ish unless you’re NASA. Soft metals don’t stay sharp. Why? Well, it has to do with the metal's shifting grain boundaries and how micro-crystalline strain fields resist movement. Enought to know that hardness is related to strength and strength means edge retention.
What George Lambert has done is find a way to use a Rocklin spark deposition machine to place a thin layer of tungsten carbide (with a Rockwell value of 74) which provides a self-sharpening edge caused by the erosion of the softer material.
Sounds like a pipe dream, but nature does it with beaver’s teeth and welders do it to digging tools by layering hard face on one side of softer material.
George claims you can take cheap steel which gives you 20 hemp rope cuts and by using only this treatment, can increase it to 400. So you can make flexible knives that perform like the hardest. WOW!
My high spot was the Victorinox build-a-knife machine. I pictured a large computer controlled machine with pre-loaded polymer pellets ready for injection and clam shell-like dies that spit out a knife every time they open.
Dan Carpenter pulled a fellow from the audience and with a little hand-operated press, a repair block, a pair of nippers and a machinist hammer, he built a Victorinox Spartan pocket knife. Having seen this done, I understand knife repair so much better.
There will be more comments and images later. The Blade Show needs to be reflected in the mirror of time. Too many things happen at once and a little distance is needed. Tomorrow is the trip home and a return to the world. It will be a long day.
I finished at noon. For me, today was a seminar day. I wanted to see Historical Sword-fighting Techniques by the Reinhardt Legacy Team. Hank Reinhardt started Museum Replicas years ago because he believed people had an interest in sword and sword fighting. As he tried to duplicate medieval combat he discovered or re-discovered the techniques contemporary fighters wrote about. Hank has passed on but his students carry on. Watching them fight explains a lot about both knives and swords.
A Hit! Good thing the tip is padded!
Ready! SET! FIGHT!
CUT!
Titanium Knives are both the bane and Holy Grail of knife making. Strong, light, non-magnetic, resistant to normal oxidation -- this wonder metal has a serious draw-back.
Is it toxic? Nope, we implant titanium in the body all the time. Too expensive? Price never stopped a custom knife maker. Do people laugh and call us girly-men for carrying titanium blades? Well, yes they do, but it’s not because of the blade. The metal can only be hardened to Rockwell 40ish unless you’re NASA. Soft metals don’t stay sharp. Why? Well, it has to do with the metal's shifting grain boundaries and how micro-crystalline strain fields resist movement. Enought to know that hardness is related to strength and strength means edge retention.
What George Lambert has done is find a way to use a Rocklin spark deposition machine to place a thin layer of tungsten carbide (with a Rockwell value of 74) which provides a self-sharpening edge caused by the erosion of the softer material.
Sounds like a pipe dream, but nature does it with beaver’s teeth and welders do it to digging tools by layering hard face on one side of softer material.
George claims you can take cheap steel which gives you 20 hemp rope cuts and by using only this treatment, can increase it to 400. So you can make flexible knives that perform like the hardest. WOW!
My high spot was the Victorinox build-a-knife machine. I pictured a large computer controlled machine with pre-loaded polymer pellets ready for injection and clam shell-like dies that spit out a knife every time they open.
The machine
Dan Carpenter pulled a fellow from the audience and with a little hand-operated press, a repair block, a pair of nippers and a machinist hammer, he built a Victorinox Spartan pocket knife. Having seen this done, I understand knife repair so much better.
tap! Tap! TAP! Finished!
There will be more comments and images later. The Blade Show needs to be reflected in the mirror of time. Too many things happen at once and a little distance is needed. Tomorrow is the trip home and a return to the world. It will be a long day.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
On the Road to Atlanta: Day Four
Do you know these people? I found them wandering by the Spyderco booth in good spirits and having the time of their lives. More of the WRCA gang from northeastern Ohio. Next year we’ll have to plan a WRCA dinner. It’s way too hard to keep meeting in hallways.
I bought a Swamp Rat fixed blade today. I like the thickness and the micarta handle. What I find hard to believe is - a sheath doesn’t come with it. I’m planning on ordering one from Bud Brown Ind. What’s very cool is he accepts PayPal, and claims it has bumped his business up. Stands to reason, click a button and the funds are on the way.
There are so many things to experience at the Blade Show. I attended Ernest Emerson’s presentation on surviving mortal combat. It was eye opening and motivating and a bit alarming all at the same time. I’ve heard him before and I’d go out of my way to hear him again.
If you asked him who he is, he would tell you he’s a fighter. He’s trained his entire life and continues to train. He just happens to own a knife company. He’s got a lot of good stuff on his website. Check out his must read book list. I’m proud to tell you I own several of his recommended books and I agree with his ideas on preparation and readiness.
Here’s a partial list:
PS: Keep your eyes open for the Spyderco Balance. I know people who have fallen in love with it at first glance.
Ed Fowler, one of a kind. A modern cowboy. And no, he's not holding a spare hat!
Ed spoke about the need to see and understand the needs of the customer and reflect them in the knives you make for them. Every new steel or change in manufacturing should have destructive testing associated with those changes. How far can I bend a knife and will it break? How much force does it take to bend? Will it chip if I drop the knife tip first on a concrete floor? He sees every knife as a survival tool. It may be chopping a hole in an ice covered lake to refill your canteen or chopping through a plaster wall to escape a fire. I like that philosophy. Knives are tools and while many, many knives are great works of art, at the core, a knife should be a tool.
The show ends tomorrow. I have two more days of "On the road..."
Ernie tells about surviving urban mortal combat
If you asked him who he is, he would tell you he’s a fighter. He’s trained his entire life and continues to train. He just happens to own a knife company. He’s got a lot of good stuff on his website. Check out his must read book list. I’m proud to tell you I own several of his recommended books and I agree with his ideas on preparation and readiness.
I met with Joyce from Spyderco and got to talk knives with her. Big changes in Spyderco knives are on their way. Most of them will pass unnoticed because Spyderco constantly improves. They call it C.Q.I. or Constant Quality Improvement. Frankly, having worked at three major international companies, you can take it from me, you either continue to improve or you will wither on the vine.
- Flat grind blades for Delica and Endura, with colored handles,
- Manix2 as a test platform for new steels and more precision manufacturing,
- Improved Para-Military 2 with better opening smoothness and top lock,
- So many new designs, the Spyderco collectors better warm up their credit cards.
Two of my favorite Blade Show ladies:
Karen from Knives and More and Joyce from Spyderco.
PS: Keep your eyes open for the Spyderco Balance. I know people who have fallen in love with it at first glance.
Ed Fowler has been both an anchor and windsock in the knife industry for 30 years. When knife makers need help and find themselves adrift, they turned to Ed. If you want to see the direction custom makers are headed, well you should also look to Ed.
Ed Fowler, one of a kind. A modern cowboy. And no, he's not holding a spare hat!
The show ends tomorrow. I have two more days of "On the road..."
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