When I was sixteen years old, like many Americans, I got my driver’s license. Among many other things, it opened up the possibility of regular trips to the comic store across town. In between buying some really embarrassing manga, I also liked to visit the adjoining martial arts supply store and gaze with pubescent admiration at the selection of sharp objects.

The owner was fairly skeptical of selling to anyone under eighteen (and in fact, it may have been illegal) but he consented to sell me a moderately sized, cheap folding knife with a partially serrated edge. It was the kind of stupid purchase that is unique to the adolescent male; born from a need to establish cool, but at the same time resigned to the reinforcement of geeky lameness. There will always be a friend with crazier parents than you, and that friend will have a samurai sword.

After a month or so of learning to open the knife with one hand, I pretty much forgot about it. I had a brand new tanto blade, after all. (Which eventually wound up in the hands of my college campus police, but that’s another story). A quick fast forward past my college years, and I’m living in Maine, discovering the joys of being adult and having to do things for yourself… and my folding knife resurfaced. And began to prove itself to be the easiest, most convenient tool for about a hundred little things.

Right now I’m packing my (last?) apartment up in preparation for a move into my (first) house, and each and every piece of packing tape gets severed neatly by the inexpensive, durable tool I bought as an irresponsible plaything fourteen years ago.

It’s a good thing human beings can learn, because we start out stupider than just about everything.