Swiss army knife (an expensive, durable one), containing (minimally) - Magnifying glass - Saw extension - Regular knife blade - Smaller knife blade - Scissors 03. Today's Penny Doubled Daily Cumulative Amount for 34 days is:Ġ1. Share what you would bring with us in the comments section. But, I decided the others would be more useful to me. I had a few other items I debated on placing on the list: a collapsible shovel, one of those flashlights you shake to make work, a sleeping bag, a tent, a hunting knife. Like Tom Hank's volleyball, I think my tennis ball would help me stay sane.
I have one on my desk, right now, that I hold, squeeze, or spin in my hand when I think or an agitated. No real use to it, but I could amuse myself for hours with it.
Army Survival Manual FM 21-76 would be good.
Used sparingly it could be one of the more important tools. It sounds funny, but I can think of a hundred uses for it right now on our imaginary island, and probabaly find a thousand more. A couple utility blades, an awl, small scissors, fish scaler, hooked blade, and magnifying glass at minimum.
Or, that 240 pound safe full of money and jewels, either. So, taking along a fiberglass, double-hulled personal watercraft and 30 gallons of fuel is out of the question. ¤ No item may be bigger than you could easily carry and place into a raft or weigh more than 10 pounds each. No pocket teleporters, no cold fusion jetpacks, no Star Trek communicators. That is, you may not take water-proof, solar powered, satellite phones, indestructible, self powered HAM radios, or things like that. You get to choose any 10 items to have with you (not including a set of clothing you are wearing and the shredded inflatable raft). In this What If, you are shipwrecked on an unihabited, tropical island in the middle of who-knows-where with no hope of rescue.
Rather this is one of those What If games you have likely played with friends and family, or lying awake in bed trying to sleep. No, you haven't awoken to find yourself as Tom Hanks in Cast Away. You have only a vague memory of the roar of strong winds, flickering flames, screams of the dying, and of tossing a few items into the flimsy raft before fear and darkness overtook your senses. You look around to find yourself inside a half-shredded rubber life raft on the beach of a small tropical island. You slowly awaken to the warmth of sunlight, the gentle crash of waves, and the taste of salt upon your dry lips.