In the 1980s, I broke the tip off my father’s Buck knife breaking into the copy room at school. I ran off a stack of pages from a book of bawdy ballads titled Roll Me Over, and then I organized an impromptu dirty song singalong in the cafeteria.

I was sent home with the broken knife. The songbook was confiscated.

It took me twenty years to replace dad’s copy of Roll Me Over. Dad got over the broken knife.

After telling the story to a friend recently, he gave me some crap about breaking a good blade, and I realized I needed to make this right.

So, I got in touch with Buck Knives, and we came up with a suitable replacement from the custom shop. I even had Dear Old Dad engraved on the blade.

He said it was worth the wait, and I can borrow this one to break into someplace anytime.