110 Dave's Buck Knife Giveaway!

Rusty said:

Put your enemies behind the sun, with Buck.
Click to expand...

I think Rusty is trying to say that one should keep the sun at his back and his enemies in front of him (in other words, force your enemy to look into the sun)......but his words got mangled in in creative process.

:D

Coffee, coffee, coffee!
 
Buck Knives, survival kits in a sheath.

or

Buck Knives, your ticket to the great outdoors.


James
aka jwh
 
The tougher a Job is, the tougher the tool needs to be.Rely on Buck knives for the best choice in a Tough TooL

or:

Well Built, Quality Tools with Buck's Famous Warranty and Legendary Customer Service to back it up. You have a Lifetime of friends at Buck Knives !

Or:

Buck Knives- Hard Working Tools for the Professional . Proven in the Field and in the Shop . Get alot more than you paid for.


Or"

When you buy a Buck tool, You are getting a lifetime of Value and Experience for your hard earned dollar. You work hard for your money, Spend it on a tool that works hard for your money.
 
OK this had been a good run on this give away...
not as much activity as in the past
but it has to come to an end
so next week i will some how chouse a winner
and if i can get the lock off the safe i put them in
will get a knife out that will be the prize!
so youal gots but a week left!!!
get them entreys posted!!
 
The old 110 sits locked away in his black leather home, put away from everyone, he waits to be called upon again. There was a time that he was asked to work everyday, and he preformed his duties well, he took care of his owner’s chores, and he was taken care of. A strop here, and a drop of oil there, he was smooth, sharp, and ready to go at all times. But now, he waits.

Camping trips, construction sites, days spent afield, fine evenings on placid lakes, this was the norm for the old 110, from the day he was chosen out of the display, he worked. Now, he waits.

He worked off the price paid for his keep in the first year, and he never disappointed when in use. A bag of concrete, or the chest cavity of a ten point, it was all the same, for him, it was just a job. Now the days go by and he sits alone in that wooden drawer, waiting.

The light shines through the cracks of the wooden drawer, and the old 110 wonders of a new beginning. A bustle goes on about outside, is this his chance? Voices blast aloud, just outside the wooden walls. “This old desk goes too?” “ It’s too old and we never use it anymore, it was your Dad’s desk, but it takes up so much room.” These words echo through the hollow drawer, the 110 waits.

“Okay, 1, 2, 3, lift.... it’s not so heavy.” “naw, it’s empty.” The 110 rolled over and fell against the drawer. “There’s something in here”, opening the drawer the woman took the black sheath out, the leather was warmed by her hand and the 110 felt renewed. “I guess it was Dad’s knife, I’ll put it in the pile for the garage sale, we don’t need that thing.” The 110 sat there with all the old rubbish that was to be sold, he was cast out. He lay there with an old clock, a worn lamp, and a few toys from when the kids were little, just waiting to leave his home.

That morning he was set outside on the picnic table, he watched as the sun rose and warmed the day. Pretty soon the neighbors gathered to see the offerings, things were sold and bargains made. The 110 was picked up a few times, but was never given any real attention. Things slowed down and closing time approached, the woman began to cover things, and the 110 was to wait longer for a new place to stay, he only hoped not to be thrown out any worse than what he already had been.

“I’m sorry sir, but we are closing for the day, and we already sold most of the good things,” she said with a half smile as the old man turned away. “You didn’t happen to have any pocket knives did ya?” The old man’s gruff, yet calm, voice spoke to the woman. It reminded her, of her own Father. “We had one, but I’m not sure it’s still here.” She was tire, but out of pity for the old man, she looked about the uncovered table, she looked past the black leather sheath the first time. “Oh, here it is, my Dad really used this knife a lot, it’s probably all worn out anyhow, I think it should be thrown away.” Know ing that the sheath had some life left in it, he asked what she wanted for it. “How does five dollars sound?” The woman asked, the old man just nodded his head and said “okay”.
The 110 sat with the quiet old man as they drove to his new home. Happy to be excepted and saved from the trash, the 110 was ready to do whatever was asked of him. He bounced up from the seat as the old man turned onto the dirt road, “almost home”. He was taken inside the old farm house, the old man set the leather sheath on the coffee table next to his chair, “I think I’ll get a nap while it’s still quiet”, the old man thought to himself. The minutes passed and the 110 watched from it’s tanned home as the old man fell into a sleep. The 110 waited.

Soon the voice of a young man entered the quiet scene, “Hey Pappy”. “Oh hey,” the old man looked up. It was his grandson, standing there with a smile on his face. The old man had a lot in common with the boy, and they grew close because of their bonds. “Have a seat, stay for a while’, the old man was eager for a visit. “I’ll do just that”, and the boy sat down. They shared views on the day, and the weather, the hunting season yet to be, and the ones passed. The 110 sat unnoticed on the table, he listened to all the stories the pair had to share, he yearned for those days afield, he waited.

“well, I got all that furniture moved for ya up stairs, so if you don’t like where I put things, give me a call, I don’t need you getting hurt.” “It was good talking to ya pappy”, the young man stood from his seat. “Well thank you very much, I’ll have to check on your work.” The old man smiled and chuckled to himself. The boy turned and walked out of the room. “Hey Caleb, wait up a minute”. Knowing that his grandson wouldn’t take any money he looked around for the sheath. “Here, I got this in a garage sale today, it probably needs cleaned”, the old man threw the 110 over to his grandson. “Hey thanks Pappy, I’ll see if I can’t get it cleaned up a little”.

Sliding the sheath in his pocket he walked home, it was the first time in years that the 110 had been in someones pocket. Sitting on the porch the boy took the 110 out of his pocket, the brass bolsters had turned green from years of waiting in the sheath, but his wait was over. With a freshly tuned edge, and a drop of oil, the 110 was asked to work again. The 110 was cleaned up now and shined like new, he was proud to be enjoyed again, and he was ready to serve well.

It didn’t take long for the pair to bond, and his grandfather would just shake his head at the boy for carrying around “that old knife”. They still work well together to this very day, and currently they are anxiously awaiting a new deer season, with lots of work to be done.

P.S.
This is a partly true story, I just assumed the first part. I’ve loved my old 110 since the day my grandfather gave it to me, it has a special place among my hunting knives, and it always goes along with me. It’s been in the woods more times than I have I’m sure, but we are getting along together just fine.
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well one more bump or two
the winner will be picked on monday some how..
likely drawn from a hat-- but who knows!!!???

still have not decided on what knife to give away...
an i have to get a pair o big bolt cutters to cut the lock on the safe

but will get another ...
so come on you all --one last entry if you would!!!
 
As you wish . . .


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