There's also something impressive about building your very own supersteel an atom at a time, which is one of the projects my nephew is doing for his PhD at Georgia Tech. First application will be in a new generation of jet engines.
Even the humble Swiss Army knife has some impressive qualities. Many years ago, I was running errands at a dressage show, and had my eyes on the ground to avoid all the mid-filled tire ruts from the rainstorm from the night before.
I spotted what looked like a chip of broken-off red barn-wood, which happens all the time around weathered red barns. Faded red, and muddy, except something told me there was more to the story than a scrap of rotted wood. First, all the stables were in tip-top condition, and they were all painted white.
I looked around, and couldn't see anything that was red, so I looked closer at the object. Something was so not right, I picked it up. It finally dawned on me it was a Wenger Swiss Army Knife, and it had been there in the mud for ages.
It was jammed shut with junk that had hardened to the consistency of concrete. It took me almost a year, working off and on, to attack with various tools and chemicals enough to get something that looked like a knife. It was like scientists do when they use dental picks and brushes to free a rare fossil from the rock matrix. After getting the blades to open and close almost as good as new, I have this in my knife place of honor;
The blades themselves still take a good edge, although splotches of polish are gone, replaced by who-knows-what that destroyed their shiny surfaces. I'd use this as my EDC knife, but I'm afraid of losing it after putting in so much work bringing it back from the dead.
For an ordinary Wenger pocket knife, it probably has some extraordinary amount of story that I just can't get out of it. Maybe some day more of its history will just casually float by, the same way I rescued this knife from that muddy tire track.