It seems that Knife Stories are dominating this year’s Reader Submission Contest – not that there is anything wrong with that. I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to see the blades that have connected with you all, and learning why they are special. It gives me an insight into some of our regular readers/commenters, and helps fill in the backstory of the authors’ personal “Knife Addiction“
That said, submissions do not need to be knife stories. They can be reviews, political/Second Amendment themed, or pretty much anything that strikes your fancy. Or send another knife story, I am fine with that too. Just send your submissions to email@example.com along with at least 1 photo and you can win a share of our prize pool. You can read the rules/details of the contest here.
My Dad’s Buck 110: (Editor’s note: You can read Chris Dumm’s review of the 110 here)
by Robert C.
Growing up in the 60s, I didn’t see my Dad a lot as he was in the Navy. He was a Vietnam veteran who served 4 tours back to back during his sea shore rotation…that is how they got ya back in the day for multiple tours in theater.
When he was home, I saw him on weekends but the thing he left behind was what I remembered the most…his Buck Hunter 110 folder in it’s leather sheath. He owned a few knives including a boatswain Marlin spike, an early multitool, and a pen knife but the Buck was on my mind. He gave me the pen knife…his mistake.
The pen knife was a constant companion…from throwing practice to whittling forks from random wood…but the former will always be remembered. I lent my knife to my brother who threw it into my calf during a “make it stick” game. As a pen knife wound, my mom just looked at it, slapped on a band aid, and kissed me good night…my first mistake. I still carry that scar.
Like a copper penny, the years rolled by, I too, served in the Navy, but my affection for knives stayed with me through the years. A random gun show meeting with LT from then BHK knives (now LTWK) rekindled my love of the blade with his sale to me of the large workhorse as my carry knife for a pending tour in Iraq.
That initial meeting became a brother/ sisterhood of knives that lives today. I have bought, sold, traded, and gifted many a knife but that Buck Hunter from my Dad was a legacy keeper that my Dad finally gave to me, accompanied with stories as kid in the woods and my Indian heritage. That knife became the beginning of a legacy for my son, daughter, friends and strangers. That knife was not just a sharp instrument but the beginning of an understanding that a knife is a tool in the hands of a skilled operator.
At the end, I will always have my Dad’s Buck Hunter 110 and the large workhorse by my side. Others have legacy starters of their own including a young man I befriended and gave a knife to at a local camp out. Signed, The old man with knife scars on his hands…