Long Live The Leatherman Wave

The Leatherman Wave was my first tool—well, tools, actually. When I received the Wave as a Christmas present shortly after graduating college, I figured the multi-tool would be handy. I did not figure it would be one of the most trusted companions I’d ever know. 

I bounced around in my twenties, moving across the country for various jobs and recreational pursuits. It didn’t make sense to collect much, and only what I could fit in my truck went with me. I had a small toolbox, but I rarely opened it. Eighteen tools in one, the Wave was almost comically versatile. I used it to adjust ski bindings, wrench on my bike, splice wires, and remove barbed hooks from the mouths of fish. It was my screwdriver, my utensils, my scissors, and often my bottle opener. People would ask how sharp the knife was. Sharp enough to slice cheese quite well, I’d tell them.  

I never knew when I would need it, so it went almost everywhere with me. Phone, wallet, keys, Leatherman. It rode shotgun in my truck and was regularly stuffed into my ski bag, my bike kit, and the pockets of my waders. I nearly lost it in the Gallatin River in Montana while trying to land a brook trout, but, having my priorities straight, I saved the Wave and let the fish go on with its day.  

The years went by. I settled down in Denver and acquired more stuff. Before long, I had a shed and then a garage full of tools. The Wave became less part of my daily life, but when I traveled it was still the go-to piece of gear that lived in my truck’s center console. That would be the last place I saw it. 

The morning after my wedding, I came home to discover my truck had been left unlocked. Someone had rummaged about, looking for anything of value. I lost a few phone chargers, a first aid kit, and worst of all: The Wave. I kicked myself for being negligent. And I grieved the loss of my favorite tool, one that represented an era of solo adventure that was fading in my rear-view. 

Sad as I was, I could not imagine living without a Leatherman Wave in my life. Sitting in my truck, with papers and belongings strewn about, I opened Facebook Marketplace and found one for sale (knowing it had also likely been lifted from someone’s vehicle). By the end of the day, I’d have a Wave again. It didn’t feel the same, but it was every bit as capable. And last I checked, it was still there: In the front console—right where it will be the next time I need a tool for just about anything.