Thread: The weeping Hone Contest!

Pictorial proof can be provided if needed

This made me cry

When I first set out to hone, I was setting up on a small wooden table in the rec room that we usually play cards at. It had an old table cloth on it and I added some towels and laid out my hones. I grabbed a plastic container I had to fill it with water and accidentally pulled the table cloth towards me. I had put one of the hones close to the edge of the table and it took a tumble. 'Luckily" the hardwood floor escaped damage because my foot bravely threw itself in the way of danger (I think it was just too stupid to get out of the way). It's a good thing I wasn't bare foot, the pair of socks I was wearing really made a difference. Now you might reason that a bump on the foot might be worth saving your favorite wet stone but this is where the story takes a turn. It was not a wet stone that fell but a DMT plate and not one of those handy little 8X3, this was the 4X10 model. It COULD have been worse. The DMT could have struck corner first but my "luck" held out and it struck the second toe of my right foot with the 4" side parallel to the toe. Here is a picture after three weeks of healing:






























it was purplish and swollen for a while but really didn't bleed
sorry for the ugly foot pic
I know I NEED a pedicure

Now, if you had opened up your foot a few inches and needed a gazillion stitches and all these staples showing and you contracted a flesh eating virus you would have been probably guaranteed a winner cause we love blood and gore. Har har.

Good stories here so far. keep em coming!

Originally Posted by thebigspendur

Now, if you had opened up your foot a few inches and needed a gazillion stitches and all these staples showing and you contracted a flesh eating virus you would have been probably guaranteed a winner cause we love blood and gore. Har har.

Good stories here so far. keep em coming!

If that had happened, with my luck someone would then show up with an amputation

Brand new out of the box crack that the company says they will only take back if it isn't used and no exchanges will be given. Advice is welcome, posted thred in hone forum. Stone has been lapped.

It looked, still looks, like anyone's Norton 4k/8k. My first hone, I wanted to love it, and for it to return my love. I had read JaNorton…twice! I had watched YouTube videos late into the night, my disconcerted family carefully not asking what I was watching as my eyes followed the rhythmic laps up and down, side to side. I guess I'm saying that I tried to give that Norton a good home. I did my part.

I started with touch-ups on a proven, purchased-new, Lynn-honed Dovo "Best Quality" 6/8ths. I soaked it a full hour in distilled water, knowing that the 8k side didn't need it, but I wanted it to feel special, you know? Just 8-10 getting-to-know-you laps. It felt so right, until I shaved. And when I shaved…it tugged. Tugged! Hadn't the edge cut under the water for the full length of the blade? Hadn't the x-strokes seemed to just come naturally? I tell the truth, I cannot lie: I was shaken.

The next time, I took it down to the 4k, soaking it for a week beforehand. I used a few drops of dish soap in the spray water to help me with the visual feedback. If you could have seen it! We looked like a "Best of GSsixguns" lifetime achievement award reel. Arm hairs popped off so fast they chipped the ceiling fan. After the shave, when the ER nurse was gently massaging aloe into my raw skin, the sense of betrayal was more than I could bear.

Weeks went by. I tried lather on the stone. Spit. Dandelion milk. Holy water. My insurance company dropped me, and my family moved into the church basement. In the 9th hour of an all-night session on what was now a custom 3/8th mustache razor, drops of sweat poured from my brow onto the surface of the stone like warm summer rain. It seemed to pulse, I felt the blade hit a sweet spot of contact that I'd never felt before…and then it was lost. I was lost. I broke. I wept. I sobbed. Ugly, snotty, face-contorting, gut-heaving sobs. And…it happened.

It happened.

The blade went over my face like a mother's first caress. My skin shone smooth like truth. Like first love. My family returned, eager to be seen about town with that neatly groomed, clean-cut man.

Tears. Tears of joy, tears of anguish, tears of rage or lost hope or hope regained or plain, silly confusion over the wonder of the world and all that's in it. The hone doesn't care. It drinks my tears and transforms them into velvet excaliber. I've learned to love my Norton 4k/8k, and it returns my love freely, extravagently.

Starting to look at scuttles.

Originally Posted by deepweeds

It looked, still looks, like anyone's Norton 4k/8k. My first hone, I wanted to love it, and for it to return my love. I had read JaNorton…twice! I had watched YouTube videos late into the night, my disconcerted family carefully not asking what I was watching as my eyes followed the rhythmic laps up and down, side to side. I guess I'm saying that I tried to give that Norton a good home. I did my part.

I started with touch-ups on a proven, purchased-new, Lynn-honed Dovo "Best Quality" 6/8ths. I soaked it a full hour in distilled water, knowing that the 8k side didn't need it, but I wanted it to feel special, you know? Just 8-10 getting-to-know-you laps. It felt so right, until I shaved. And when I shaved…it tugged. Tugged! Hadn't the edge cut under the water for the full length of the blade? Hadn't the x-strokes seemed to just come naturally? I tell the truth, I cannot lie: I was shaken.

The next time, I took it down to the 4k, soaking it for a week beforehand. I used a few drops of dish soap in the spray water to help me with the visual feedback. If you could have seen it! We looked like a "Best of GSsixguns" lifetime achievement award reel. Arm hairs popped off so fast they chipped the ceiling fan. After the shave, when the ER nurse was gently massaging aloe into my raw skin, the sense of betrayal was more than I could bear.

Weeks went by. I tried lather on the stone. Spit. Dandelion milk. Holy water. My insurance company dropped me, and my family moved into the church basement. In the 9th hour of an all-night session on what was now a custom 3/8th mustache razor, drops of sweat poured from my brow onto the surface of the stone like warm summer rain. It seemed to pulse, I felt the blade hit a sweet spot of contact that I'd never felt before…and then it was lost. I was lost. I broke. I wept. I sobbed. Ugly, snotty, face-contorting, gut-heaving sobs. And…it happened.

It happened.

The blade went over my face like a mother's first caress. My skin shone smooth like truth. Like first love. My family returned, eager to be seen about town with that neatly groomed, clean-cut man.

Tears. Tears of joy, tears of anguish, tears of rage or lost hope or hope regained or plain, silly confusion over the wonder of the world and all that's in it. The hone doesn't care. It drinks my tears and transforms them into velvet excaliber. I've learned to love my Norton 4k/8k, and it returns my love freely, extravagently.

Starting to look at scuttles.

Bravo... BRAVO!! Here I was, being the pessimist that I am, thinking it had to be a sad story about the misfortunes had with devilish hones that wanted to destroy any hope of being even a tad successful at keeping that edge sharp.. But you sir, brought a tear to my eye... Your story is not one of horror but one of love, understanding and the stone teaching, nay, nurturing you in to the world of skilled craftsmen that understand what it takes to succeed at shaving and thus life..... Cheers

Not sure how anyone will be able to compete with deepweed's story, above.

My story is, unfortunately, of the weeping variety... tears of sadness and heartache. Even now, it hurts a little.

Being the kind of person to go 'all in' on any new hobby or venture, I decided that if I was going to be straight razor shaving, I was also going to be learning to do my own honing. I'd read the forums, watched videos, and knew it was going to be an art - but would be entirely possible to learn over time. I shopped around, incredulous over the price of these sharpening stones - especially in New Zealand!! And the range was slim - no 4k/8k stones in sight, a few unbranded Japanese water stones. The 1k/6k combo I finally found was going to set me back nearly NZ$300 by itself - WHAT?! (But it would be worth it, I told myself.... Since I was going to be restoring old blades, I would need a 1k stone for bevel setting.) The 6k seemed like too much of a jump from the 1k, so I also convinced myself I should get a 3k/8k combo as well - another $300. I realise now that many people spend far more on polishing stones, but this was my first naive outing - and on a budget.

With great anticipation, I received my stones (from two different sources, doubling my postage costs). I soaked them overnight, I had everything laid out and ready. I planned to use the pyramid method, moving between the stones as I needed to. Everything was going according to plan and I worked my way up through the grits... The 6k stone felt so nice and smooth - time for the 8k and then a strop and test - almost there!! I placed my open blade on the 8k stone and picked up the 6k stone to move it back to its bath. My fingers were wet... The stone was wet...

And disaster struck! I dropped the heavy 1k/6k combo stone, corner first, onto my open blade and soft 8k stone. The blade - a GOTTA 120 - went flying (luckily I didn't attempt a catch) and I could see that a large chunk had shattered from it. The 8k combo stone was ruined - a massive hole in the missing and a crack right through. The heaviest of the lot, my 1k/6k stone, is still used to this day, with its mangled corner there to remind me: dry your hands, take things slow, and most of all - always leave your blade in a safe place.

Dog act that
kick the mail man