When my son had been through seven backpacks in five years of school, I had nearly lost hope. Then I saw a review on a blog (I apologize, noble travel blogger, I've forgotten who you were...) about the durability of Tom Bihn bags. My thought - "MmHmmmmmm... okay, Mr. Bihn. You think you can do freaking durable? Right. I'll take that bet."
My son, examining the choices, chose a steel colored Brain Bag. It was HUGE on him, but it held enough to hold his winter coat, which he needed to take to reassure the teachers but never wore, his bento lunchbox, his fencing clothes and shoes, his notebooks, and his textbooks. Save for winter with it's inevitable coat debacle, he only ever used one of the main compartments.
In junior high they stopped bothering him about a coat, but his textbooks and notebooks and gym clothes began to make up the distance. In high school, by senior year, he could still always seem to find more room in it. Rather like the Tardis, or one of the sheik's tents from Bugs Bunny.
He's gone off to his Freshman year of university this year with his Brain Bag. THE SAME ONE. The bag has shrugged off several disasters with leaking substances (use your imagination) that called for a hose and a night out on the porch. No dead zippers. No holes. No split seams. The straps haven't broken loose. The bottom, dragged on miles of railings, steps, and heaven-only-knows-what... shows no real wear.
Mr. Bihn... I've never been happier to say these words - you win.
With my eternal thanks,
Sara M.
My son, examining the choices, chose a steel colored Brain Bag. It was HUGE on him, but it held enough to hold his winter coat, which he needed to take to reassure the teachers but never wore, his bento lunchbox, his fencing clothes and shoes, his notebooks, and his textbooks. Save for winter with it's inevitable coat debacle, he only ever used one of the main compartments.
In junior high they stopped bothering him about a coat, but his textbooks and notebooks and gym clothes began to make up the distance. In high school, by senior year, he could still always seem to find more room in it. Rather like the Tardis, or one of the sheik's tents from Bugs Bunny.
He's gone off to his Freshman year of university this year with his Brain Bag. THE SAME ONE. The bag has shrugged off several disasters with leaking substances (use your imagination) that called for a hose and a night out on the porch. No dead zippers. No holes. No split seams. The straps haven't broken loose. The bottom, dragged on miles of railings, steps, and heaven-only-knows-what... shows no real wear.
Mr. Bihn... I've never been happier to say these words - you win.
With my eternal thanks,
Sara M.
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