We’ve had bad luck with can openers over the years at the CDC. We open so, so many cans and they wear out quickly. We’ve had hand-crank models, electric, the kind that cuts a smooth lip, and the old-timey army model. (That one is actually the most reliable.) Once Lloyd and I were at a surplus auction and they had one of those serious hand-cranked models, so we bought it. There was no base, though, and no place to put it at the old place.
The new place has plenty of room, though, so I bought a base. Then I looked at the blade of the opener and saw that it was all nicked up. “That’s ok. I have a whetstone!” It took a lot of looking – and eventually I had to ask Lloyd where it was. (In the knife drawer of all places. I never would have looked there. I’m not very bright.) Anyway, I did that whetstone thing you do, and….
Shazaam! Installed! I was so excited I looked around for something to open. This is a big ol’ can of ketchup and I was very happy to open it and refill the ketchup bottles. Oh, lovely opener, how I admire your strength.
Now…. there is a terrible can opener that lives in the church kitchen. You’re next, mister. There’s got to be metal underneath all that rust.
Update: There was. It looks great now. No photo yet.