Queer (strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually different; singular)
I have something to admit. I’m a gear queer. I love gear. Knives especially. You can never have enough knives. Especially in my line of work. Each knife is special and has a purpose all of it’s own. Some are hard to keep from being rusty looking, even after a good clean but they sill serve me well. They cut things, they gut fish and game, trim ropes, prune plants, cut vegetables, slice fruit and some I keep just because they’re beautiful. The old ones like the my Scout knives aren’t necessarily working knives, but they hold stories of the past. Stories of their caretakers before me. These tools have travelled, they’ve had adventures and hi-jinx in the forest, memories of summer camping trips, successful fishing outings, whittling of soft timbers, opening cans of beans or beers around a camp fire. Their stories are endless.