
THE KNIFE THAT COULD CUT THROUGH A BOLT
Some things are made to last. Some things are made to be remembered. The best things do both
"It can be hammered through a two-inch bolt," my father said, watching me turn the knife over in my hands.
I was ten. My hands looked just like his, just smaller. Especially with the knife for scale.
Why would anyone hammer a knife through a bolt? I wanted to ask, but I did not. Instead, I nodded. He nodded back. That was the end of the conversation.
The knife was heavier than I expected. It folded with a slow, deliberate motion, locking into place with the quiet certainty of something that had nothing to prove. I carried it sometimes, but mostly, it stayed in a drawer. It came out when needed. To slice an apple. To cut a loose thread. To carve the initials of people I liked into things that did not belong to me.
Years passed.
When my son turned ten, I gave it to him.
"It can be hammered through a two-inch bolt," I said, watching him turn it over in his hands.
He nodded.
So did I.
None of us ever tested it. But that was never really the point.
The story made the knife worth keeping. And the knife made the story worth telling.
The ritual of handing it down came from both.
Maybe that is why we started making things.
Make some memories,
The Ironclad Co.