Our knives and the stories they tell.

[BMCGear]

Growing up every man I knew carried a pocket knife of some sort. The men who carried a Case were the ones that really owned something special. Most of the men in my family and area were pretty poor so a yellow derlin Case was in their pockets if they owned a Case. 100% performance that saved money where it needed to. No fancy covers; just dependability. My grandfather's last knife was a Sodbuster Jr. that my dad gave to him (son in law) that he beat to hell, literally. So when I wanted to save up my money as a kid to buy a knife I bought a yellow derlin Sodbuster jr. I have no idea where that knife is today -hopefully in someone's pocket being used because I lost it somewhere between there and here. When my wife and I first married a few years ago she desperately wanted to get me a knife but had no idea what to get other than a lowly Sodbuster Jr. I was very happy to open and see that little knife but I didn't want to carry and lose it since she gave it to me. It hurt her feelings that it wasn't put into my pocket immediately so I rectified that problem by carrying it and then it happened; I lost it.

Last night as I was cleaning out my closet for an upcoming garage sale I was putting a pair of pants in it that I hated and found the knife tucked away in the pocket of the jeans. I hadn't worn them in a long time and there the knife was safe and sound. So now, I carry it daily (anytime I'm in jeans) and it carries this story.

What story does your knife tell?

 

[mnblade]

... I lost it.

Last night as I was cleaning out my closet for an upcoming garage sale I was putting a pair of pants in it that I hated and found the knife tucked away in the pocket of the jeans. I hadn't worn them in a long time and there the knife was safe and sound. So now, I carry it daily (anytime I'm in jeans) and it carries this story.

Congratulations on finding it. Great knife with a very knife memory attached to it. :thumbup:

-- Mark

 

[silenthunterstudios]

Now you need a pocket slip for it! Great story, glad you checked the pockets first before tossing the pants on the donate pile.

This is embarrassing, but when I was a kid, my neighbor up the street gave me an old single shot Wards .22 bolt action, and a Schrade 7OT Cave Bear. Schrades answer to the 110. Maybe the reason I only like custom 110's is rooted in this story.

I used that knife all the time. My father had horses, and it was up to me to feed them. This involved cutting open bags of horse feed to put in the feed can, or to cut baling twine off hay bales. One ice cold day, I was feeling lazy, and rather than close my knife and put it back in my pocket, I stuck it in a fence post, point first. Yep, that tip is probably still in that same fence post today. I was hopping mad, and said quite a few curse words I'd heard from my older cousins and neighborhood buddies (well, really, my father and uncles).

My father had gotten a few whetstones for me, and I really mangled that knife to hell and back. I fashioned a crude point on it, but destroyed the factory edge. When I first got into good knives, I went on eBay and for some reason I still don't fathom, I sold it. I bought a replacement later on, but I sold that one too. Several years ago, a very nice member of the Schrade collectors forum here on BF sent me a 7OT. It sits in my Harbor Freight wooden tool chest, with the rest of my knife collection. I am afraid to carry it, but I take it out and admire it sometimes.

 

[300Bucks]

Back when I called myself a 'elk' hunter and would venture with my college buddy who lived in Denver to NW Colorado. From 700ft at home to 4600ft and more to hunt. The SAK knife pictured and the smaller one went in my pockets and two or three others went in a small backpack. One year we didn't draw bull permits for another year of ten years and were after cow elk. He harvested one in a sage flat when it popped up out of a gully. It was two miles to the only road so he and his son took a load and left me to pack my load and clean up the spot a little. As I bagged some boned out meat, I stuck that SAK in the ground, and when loading up camp to go home realized I had lost my knife. I could not think of the causal 'stick in the ground' action. So it was gone. The next fall he was walking by that spot and ventured over to see if the left-behinds had been eaten and there was my knife. Still defending spot in the name of sport hunting.
A little sunbleached on the south facing scale but no rust. He brought it to me and we wondered what it had seen and heard that year alone in the Rockies, sometimes under the snow, while it guarded a special spot. I guess it stood tall, just knowing we would be back. I carried it from then on as my lucky knife, never shot another elk but never lost another knife. It was replaced in use by another fancier knife but it always goes on the trip, when I deer hunt locally. Dad-gumm bad knees. 300Bucks




PS Went 14 years and never drew a bull permit for that unit.

 

[afishhunter]

Any stories of grandure or adventure my knives tell are lies.

 

[jackknife]

I've sworn my pocket knives to an oath of silence on pain of blade braking in a vise!

 

[BMCGear]

Now you need a pocket slip for it! Great story, glad you checked the pockets first before tossing the pants on the donate pile.

This is embarrassing, but when I was a kid, my neighbor up the street gave me an old single shot Wards .22 bolt action, and a Schrade 7OT Cave Bear. Schrades answer to the 110. Maybe the reason I only like custom 110's is rooted in this story.

I used that knife all the time. My father had horses, and it was up to me to feed them. This involved cutting open bags of horse feed to put in the feed can, or to cut baling twine off hay bales. One ice cold day, I was feeling lazy, and rather than close my knife and put it back in my pocket, I stuck it in a fence post, point first. Yep, that tip is probably still in that same fence post today. I was hopping mad, and said quite a few curse words I'd heard from my older cousins and neighborhood buddies (well, really, my father and uncles).

My father had gotten a few whetstones for me, and I really mangled that knife to hell and back. I fashioned a crude point on it, but destroyed the factory edge. When I first got into good knives, I went on eBay and for some reason I still don't fathom, I sold it. I bought a replacement later on, but I sold that one too. Several years ago, a very nice member of the Schrade collectors forum here on BF sent me a 7OT. It sits in my Harbor Freight wooden tool chest, with the rest of my knife collection. I am afraid to carry it, but I take it out and admire it sometimes.

I had a Schrade like that. I wish I still owned it.

Back when I called myself a 'elk' hunter and would venture with my college buddy who lived in Denver to NW Colorado. From 700ft at home to 4600ft and more to hunt. The SAK knife pictured and the smaller one went in my pockets and two or three others went in a small backpack. One year we didn't draw bull permits for another year of ten years and were after cow elk. He harvested one in a sage flat when it popped up out of a gully. It was two miles to the only road so he and his son took a load and left me to pack my load and clean up the spot a little. As I bagged some boned out meat, I stuck that SAK in the ground, and when loading up camp to go home realized I had lost my knife. I could not think of the causal 'stick in the ground' action. So it was gone. The next fall he was walking by that spot and ventured over to see if the left-behinds had been eaten and there was my knife. Still defending spot in the name of sport hunting.
A little sunbleached on the south facing scale but no rust. He brought it to me and we wondered what it had seen and heard that year alone in the Rockies, sometimes under the snow, while it guarded a special spot. I guess it stood tall, just knowing we would be back. I carried it from then on as my lucky knife, never shot another elk but never lost another knife. It was replaced in use by another fancier knife but it always goes on the trip, when I deer hunt locally. Dad-gumm bad knees. 300Bucks




PS Went 14 years and never drew a bull permit for that unit.

What a story!

Any stories of grandure or adventure my knives tell are lies.

I've sworn my pocket knives to an oath of silence on pain of blade braking in a vise!

I don't blame you.

 

[r redden]

When I was about 10 I spent some days helping my Grandfather put new fencing around his pasture. It was hard work first we split a bunch of locust into post, then we dug holes and set them. when that was done we strung 4 or 5 strands of barbed wire. When it was done we wrecked out the old fencing and posts, that evening my grandfather gave me a $10 bill and a brand new Colonial Barlow for my help. This was my first pocket knife. I carried that knife for a couple of years but like most things in life it was replaced with newer and better. I lost track of that old knife and wondered what I had done with it many times particularly after my grandfather passed in 92. Last year I was in my basement with my son and he pointed to an old red toolbox behind some shelving. It was my fathers old toolbox, he had passed when I was 12 and Mom never let me get into his tool box. When I cleaned out the old home place after she passed in 2004 I had stuck that old toolbox behind that shelf and forgot about it. When my son pulled it out and I opened it there on the first shelf lay my old Barlow. Missing a cover and rusty I remember putting it in there a few months after Dad died because I knew Mom would never let anyone near it that was almost 50 years ago. I contacted Glennbad and he brought it back to life for me. I know I've posted that old knife several times before but I'm sitting here looking at it and can't help but posting it again.

 

[5K Qs]

Fantastic story, Randy! :thumbup:
You're so blessed to have an old knife like that that brings back so many precious memories!

- GT

 

[r redden]

Thanks Gary.

 

[deltaboy]

My 1984 8OT stock man tells of dozens of fish,ducks,rabbit's and Squirrels it skinned till I retired in 1994 after the main blade got a tad loose.

 

[MTURBO]

Fantastic reading in this thread guys! Bravo.

 

[BMCGear]

Now you need a pocket slip for it! Great story, glad you checked the pockets first before tossing the pants on the donate pile.

This is embarrassing, but when I was a kid, my neighbor up the street gave me an old single shot Wards .22 bolt action, and a Schrade 7OT Cave Bear. Schrades answer to the 110. Maybe the reason I only like custom 110's is rooted in this story.

I used that knife all the time. My father had horses, and it was up to me to feed them. This involved cutting open bags of horse feed to put in the feed can, or to cut baling twine off hay bales. One ice cold day, I was feeling lazy, and rather than close my knife and put it back in my pocket, I stuck it in a fence post, point first. Yep, that tip is probably still in that same fence post today. I was hopping mad, and said quite a few curse words I'd heard from my older cousins and neighborhood buddies (well, really, my father and uncles).

My father had gotten a few whetstones for me, and I really mangled that knife to hell and back. I fashioned a crude point on it, but destroyed the factory edge. When I first got into good knives, I went on eBay and for some reason I still don't fathom, I sold it. I bought a replacement later on, but I sold that one too. Several years ago, a very nice member of the Schrade collectors forum here on BF sent me a 7OT. It sits in my Harbor Freight wooden tool chest, with the rest of my knife collection. I am afraid to carry it, but I take it out and admire it sometimes.

Back when I called myself a 'elk' hunter and would venture with my college buddy who lived in Denver to NW Colorado. From 700ft at home to 4600ft and more to hunt. The SAK knife pictured and the smaller one went in my pockets and two or three others went in a small backpack. One year we didn't draw bull permits for another year of ten years and were after cow elk. He harvested one in a sage flat when it popped up out of a gully. It was two miles to the only road so he and his son took a load and left me to pack my load and clean up the spot a little. As I bagged some boned out meat, I stuck that SAK in the ground, and when loading up camp to go home realized I had lost my knife. I could not think of the causal 'stick in the ground' action. So it was gone. The next fall he was walking by that spot and ventured over to see if the left-behinds had been eaten and there was my knife. Still defending spot in the name of sport hunting.
A little sunbleached on the south facing scale but no rust. He brought it to me and we wondered what it had seen and heard that year alone in the Rockies, sometimes under the snow, while it guarded a special spot. I guess it stood tall, just knowing we would be back. I carried it from then on as my lucky knife, never shot another elk but never lost another knife. It was replaced in use by another fancier knife but it always goes on the trip, when I deer hunt locally. Dad-gumm bad knees. 300Bucks




PS Went 14 years and never drew a bull permit for that unit.

Any stories of grandure or adventure my knives tell are lies.

When I was about 10 I spent some days helping my Grandfather put new fencing around his pasture. It was hard work first we split a bunch of locust into post, then we dug holes and set them. when that was done we strung 4 or 5 strands of barbed wire. When it was done we wrecked out the old fencing and posts, that evening my grandfather gave me a $10 bill and a brand new Colonial Barlow for my help. This was my first pocket knife. I carried that knife for a couple of years but like most things in life it was replaced with newer and better. I lost track of that old knife and wondered what I had done with it many times particularly after my grandfather passed in 92. Last year I was in my basement with my son and he pointed to an old red toolbox behind some shelving. It was my fathers old toolbox, he had passed when I was 12 and Mom never let me get into his tool box. When I cleaned out the old home place after she passed in 2004 I had stuck that old toolbox behind that shelf and forgot about it. When my son pulled it out and I opened it there on the first shelf lay my old Barlow. Missing a cover and rusty I remember putting it in there a few months after Dad died because I knew Mom would never let anyone near it that was almost 50 years ago. I contacted Glennbad and he brought it back to life for me. I know I've posted that old knife several times before but I'm sitting here looking at it and can't help but posting it again.

What a wonderful story and a great looking knife.

My 1984 8OT stock man tells of dozens of fish,ducks,rabbit's and Squirrels it skinned till I retired in 1994 after the main blade got a tad loose.

That's a solid run.

Fantastic reading in this thread guys! Bravo.

Agreed. Such great stories.

 

[dispatch184]

Fantastic stories, thank you for sharing. I hope to have some with my daughters and hopefully thier children someday.. or perhaps they will have some of me. : )