Let's share more favorite Buck stories

I've told this one on here before. It is not a story of my own. This would be mid 60's, my older brother's best friend was heading off to Vietnam and he gifted him a Buck General. His friend later related he used that knife to help exit a downed helicopter while taking fire.
 
This is a repeat...
After having my 118 for several years and learning to sharpen it well on a stone. I was at a friend's house to help dress out several deer. The 118 was doing an admirable job! Unbeknownst to me, my friend takes my 118 and runs it through his electric knife sharpener!:eek::mad::eek: It still bears the cars of that trip through the grinder. Preston
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pjsjr said:
After having my 118 for several years and learning to sharpen it well on a stone. I was at a friend's house to help dress out several deer. The 118 was doing an admirable job! Unbeknownst to me, my friend takes my 118 and runs it through his electric knife sharpener!:eek::mad::eek: It still bears the cars of that trip through the grinder.
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After reading your post, is there a ":thumbsdown: Dislike" button for your friend and his grinder?
 
Broke down on the highway in a 1978 Corvette one night.. Used the blade on my 309 Companion to jump the starter.. Got started but a little arch burn on the blade.. John
 
pjsjr said:
This is a repeat...
After having my 118 for several years and learning to sharpen it well on a stone. I was at a friend's house to help dress out several deer. The 118 was doing an admirable job! Unbeknownst to me, my friend takes my 118 and runs it through his electric knife sharpener!:eek::mad::eek: It still bears the cars of that trip through the grinder. Preston
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Not a Buck, but my dad only had his original Gerber multiplier for about a week before running it through an electric sharner at the restaurant he cooked at and ruining it.
I don't know what kind of sharpener it was but it looked like he ran it across the worlds coarsest bench grinder.
He says it was something you pull through but I don't know.

Now for another Buck story ( not mine )
When my dad reported to basic at ft Bliss back in '78 he had his small Buck Lockback confiscation, he eventually found the captain sitting at his desk using it.
He took his knife back and evneventually sold it to a friend for $20 and some beer or something.
 
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TAH said:
Summer 1975. Bow hunting chipmunks in the woods behind our house. Chipmunk spotted on log, straight ahead, 15 yards away, taunting me. Quietly, I drew a wooden arrow from my quiver and as soon as I began to nock the arrow in the bow, the plastic nock on the end of the arrow fell off! o_O

Now, I know you're all concerned and at the edge of your seats, but don't worry, I had a plan! To whittled a new nock into the end of wooden shaft with my trusted Buck 105 Pathfinder. :thumbsup: Pinching the arrow with my thumb and index finger, I slowly began to cut the shaft and as soon as I applied a little more downward pressure, the razor sharp 440C blade with a beautiful satin finish sliced through the arrow and into the top of my index finger all the way to the bone. Ouch! No, double ouch! :eek: So, I did what every 14 year-old would do. I resheathed my knife, dropped my bow, and ran home to tell my mom.

Next thing I know, I'm at the emergency room (knife still on my belt) about to receive three stitches and thinking, "This is going to hurt. I should probably bite the handle of my knife to help manage the pain." For all you youngsters, this brilliant technique was used by every cowboy who needed to have an Indian arrow removed from a body part. Well, before I could suggest the "knife-in-the-teeth" idea, the doctor was already addressing the wound and my mother was distracting me with an offer to buy ice cream after the doctor was finished. I like ice cream. :D

Today, I still have a half-inch scar on my finger, my old Pathfinder, bow, arrows, and a wonderful childhood memory. :)
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And this is what the chipmunks did when they saw what you did. :D

John
 
My Buck story: My 110 Saved My Job!

In 1985 I was 18 years old and working nights for the local newspaper. I drove diesel box trucks loaded with bundled newspapers to distribution points all over the county. The trucks only had single-speaker AM radios in them which sounded horrible, so I used to carry my Sony Walkman so I could listen to cassette tapes while I drove. At one of my early stops, I accidently locked the keys in the truck. Not a big deal because I could simply use a pay phone (no cells back then) to call headquarters and have my boss bring me an extra key. However, I had left my Walkman sitting on the driver's seat in plain sight! It was against company policy and the vehicle code to be using the Walkman while driving, and if it was seen, I would likely have been fired. I used my Buck 110 (two-dot I bought new in 1977 when I was 10 years old) to lift up the latch for the wind-wing window and cut open my left thumb in the process. I wrapped up my thumb with a wad of paper towels and finished my route. When I went back to the newspaper I had to explain how I cut open my thumb. I told them everything, but left out the part about the Walkman. My boss took me to the hospital for stitches (11 of them). I actually got kudos for finishing my job with a cut open hand!

So my 110 saved me from being fired! I worked for that company for twelve more years after that. I still have and use that knife. It has a special place in my heart!
 
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TAH said:
Last Sunday, I took a 2-hour horseback ride with my nearly 90 year old father. The girth on his saddle needed a hole enlarged to accept the buckle post. Whipped out my 112 and drilled the hole a little larger. Problem solved! :)
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This is more of a geriatric cowboy story than a Buck story. I ran into a guy in a hot tub in Aspen who was 39 years old and had spent most of his adult life in the military. He had a degree in mechanical engineering, jurisprudence, and orthopaedic surgery. He divided his time between designing and installing implants and medical legal work related to lawsuits and patents. He had a patient who had fallen off his horse in the Russian Revolution (Cossack?) and broken his hip. He installed an artificial hip, and the guy, at age 90, went out and got a new horse and a new wife.
He probably gave his Viagra to the horse.
 
This story is about the deer and not the knife but I'll sneak it in. My subdivision has like a community facebook page. Some lady just posted on it that the county needs to move the deer crossing sign somewhere else because too many deer are being hit along that stretch of road. Some people just don't have a clue about how the world works..... HONEST, someone really posted that!!!
 
DeSotoSky said:
This story is about the deer and not the knife but I'll sneak it in. My subdivision has like a community facebook page. Some lady just posted on it that the county needs to move the deer crossing sign somewhere else because too many deer are being hit along that stretch of road. Some people just don't have a clue about how the world works..... HONEST, someone really posted that!!!
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Ha!Ha! When we travel I always tease the wife about the signs and to watch for the deer, elk, cow crossings...I have never heard of what you just said, that's hilarious and scary at the same time...
 
When I was in my late teens, back in the '70's, I had a job as a delivery driver for a pharmaceutical company. My route was to the rural pharmacies in small towns in the mountains in 3 states. I was driving along one of those lonely roads, the kind that one side is sheer rock face and the other drops off into oblivion. I was cutting chewing tobacco with my Buck 501 and spitting into a styrofoam cup while driving. Well, due to the distance between stops, that cup got full. I spit into it forcefully, and the juice splashed up into my eyes! There I was, on that road with a sheer drop off, doing 60 or 70 MPH, and I couldn't see! I calmed myself and slowly eased on the brakes, hoping it was not too late. Once I got stopped I was able to flush out my eyes with some water I happened to have with me for making coffee. Yikes!
 
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I was a UPS driver in the 80's and carried a Buck 110 in a sheath on my belt. I would cut C.O.D. tags off of packages all day long. More than a few times I would get an ewe or awe when secretaries would see me whip out my big ole Buck.
 
Chilebrown said:
I was a UPS driver in the 80's and carried a Buck 110 in a sheath on my belt. I would cut C.O.D. tags off of packages all day long. More than a few times I would get an ewe or awe when secretaries would see me whip out my big ole Buck.
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I bet they did. ;)
 
Great stories. Anyone have more?

I cannot remember if I told this one on the previous thread on this topic or not. Anyway, this happened back in the '70's in northern Alabama, the names have been changed to protect the inn...er...idiotic.

A friend of mine had a cousin who had shot three deer. Each and every time, as he was approaching the deer, the deer got up and ran away. That third time, the idio..er, cousin put his gun in the deer's rack intending to take a photo. You guessed it. The deer revived and jumped up and ran away, carrying that guy's rifle with it. Sooo...fast forward to the end of deer season and I was visiting so I got an invite to go hunting. Now, Alabama has a deer herd second only to TX in size and the density is far greater. This guy shoots a deer. It is down on the ground. He goes crazy, pulls out his Buck 119 (as I remember) and starts stabbing that deer furiously, over and over, yelling something like, "You ain't goin' nowhere, this time." HaHahaha!

This is the same idio..er, fellow who was riding a motorcycle down the road one day. He had no shirt on, but he had on one of those thin nylon wind breakers zipped only enough at the bottom to keep in from flying open. When on the motorcycle, the jacket ballooned out because of the wind and suddenly a big wasp flew into the jacket and wanted out. It started stinging everything in sight, and that meant this idiot driving the motorcycle. He started slapping and yelling and trying to tear that jacket off. We thought he had lost his mind. He went by us about 60mph yelling incoherently, slapping, and jerking until he suddenly just had to jump off of that motorcycle at speed and roll around on the asphalt. When we got to him, what wasn't scraped up from the road was covered in big welts from the wasp stings. HaHahaha!
 
DocT said:
Great stories. Anyone have more?

I cannot remember if I told this one on the previous thread on this topic or not. Anyway, this happened back in the '70's in northern Alabama, the names have been changed to protect the inn...er...idiotic.

A friend of mine had a cousin who had shot three deer. Each and every time, as he was approaching the deer, the deer got up and ran away. That third time, the idio..er, cousin put his gun in the deer's rack intending to take a photo. You guessed it. The deer revived and jumped up and ran away, carrying that guy's rifle with it. Sooo...fast forward to the end of deer season and I was visiting so I got an invite to go hunting. Now, Alabama has a deer herd second only to TX in size and the density is far greater. This guy shoots a deer. It is down on the ground. He goes crazy, pulls out his Buck 119 (as I remember) and starts stabbing that deer furiously, over and over, yelling something like, "You ain't goin' nowhere, this time." HaHahaha!

This is the same idio..er, fellow who was riding a motorcycle down the road one day. He had no shirt on, but he had on one of those thin nylon wind breakers zipped only enough at the bottom to keep in from flying open. When on the motorcycle, the jacket ballooned out because of the wind and suddenly a big wasp flew into the jacket and wanted out. It started stinging everything in sight, and that meant this idiot driving the motorcycle. He started slapping and yelling and trying to tear that jacket off. We thought he had lost his mind. He went by us about 60mph yelling incoherently, slapping, and jerking until he suddenly just had to jump off of that motorcycle at speed and roll around on the asphalt. When we got to him, what wasn't scraped up from the road was covered in big welts from the wasp stings. HaHahaha!
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Wow! That is a crazy story. Thanks for sharing.
 
I don't really have a favorite moment with Bucks per se, but when I was about 18 I bought my first knife for myself, a Buck Spitfire, and I loved that little guy, carried it everywhere and used it for everything.

Now, some 10 years later, I have about 30 knives, all thanks to the Buck I picked up on a whim.

It was also the first knife I disassembled. Really should put it back together one of these days.
 
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