My personal experience with these autos is a fond and often funny affair. Dad kept his prized collection in two boxes under his bed. When I was old enough to find them but too young to know better, I would sneak into their room to covet, admire, and yes, push those buttons! The catch was - I could *never* figure out how to close them! The next time I went to play with knives, they would be closed and dad would have bandaids on his hands from the pointy little surprises I'd left for him. Over time I like to think that he caught on and simply allowed my covert ops to continue. I think he knew that, like him, I found them beautiful, fascinating, and amazing.
I have a favorite photo I will try to include here of Dad (on right) staging a knife fight with his (bless his heart) little brother. Since my little uncle has the bigger blade I'm thinking dad let him win. <wink>
KT Denver CO
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