This is the first knife I ever had. It is a victorinox "Tinker". It was given to me by my Grandfather when I was about 12. If I understand it correctly he had found it while walking along the road near his house. Reaching my first knife was in no way a grand event. It was simply that I was going to need one for a scout camp, and this was one he had laying around. But it is an event that marks a turning point in my life. In some ways it was, in my mind at least, the point where a started on the road from child to adult.
Since receiving that first knife so may years ago I have collected many more. A few of them have been this very same "Tinker" model. When I got to an age were I could understood such things that first knife found a safe place on a shelf. It was replaced with another tinker that did not have the same history with and so did not worry about losing or breaking the same. As you can see in the picture below my first knife did see action. The case cracked and I melted it back together. It got damaged while it had the adventure of traveling the workings of an easy chair. It had been missing for a month or so, and one day I gave the handle on the stiff easy chair a good pull, and then heard the knife hit the floor. What I enjoy about knives, is that like journals they travel with you, so their history is also yours.
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