Back in 1970, my Dad handed down his Western brand sheath knife to me, a momentous occasion for a 12 year old boy. The snap on the keeper strap was broken and, you guessed it, the knife was soon lost. I never told Dad because, oh boy, did he have a temper(!), but for years, I was constantly searching for that knife. I assumed I lost it in the woods behind the house where I spent a lot of my time after school, climbing trees and such.
Amazingly, in 2001, my son found it in the yard! Badly pitted after 31 years, and unusable, but the distinctive red plastic grip panels were there. It will always occupy a place of honor in my safe. Josh, my son, was rewarded with a new Buck #102 Woodsman.
I only wish Dad was still alive, so I could confess my sin and tell him this story.
Jeff