Based around the column "Trevor's Travels" published each Sunday in the San Bernardino Sun, with some detours along the way.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
My father, and both my grandfathers, always carried a small penknife with them. It was a part of them and they would no more think of being without one, than of not having a handkerchief. My father used to say to me that he couldn't understand why I didn't do the same. But I never found the need for a knife. Penknives were carried originally as the name implies to cut the quills that served as pens. Nibs needed trimming and shaping. But I never used a quill and had no need to trim one, nor as far as I know did my elder relatives. But the habit remained with them. For me, I tried to comply but I became fed up with the thing always being there and occasionally wearing a hole in my pocket. About the only time I regularly carry a knife is when I'm on one of my long motorcycling camping trips, and there they come into their own.