Walmart – The ExhaustNotes Blog

By Joe Berk

The pocketknife craze continues unabated, and I am finding that in my collecting I am stabilizing around the idea of the large folding hunter style knife. These are commonly referred to as a Buck knife, even though many similar available knives are not manufactured by Buck.

A Cold Steel Ranch Boss II (top) and a Buck 110 (bottom). The Cold Steel is a big knife.

Don’t get the word Buck confused with deer hunting, as if someone armed with a Buck knife is going to chase down Bambi for a knife fight. The “Buck” in Buck Knife is actually the name of the man who founded the company, and that company is in Post Falls, Idaho (a stone’s throw from the Canadian border). I know that because I recently chatted with a guy there.

What most of us think of when we think of a Buck knife is the Buck 110, the classic folding hunter knife style. The idea Buck had back in the early 1960s was to create a folding knife (like a pocketknife) that could do the same thing as a fixed blade hunting knife. Buck envisioned a folder with a thicker 3.75-inch-long blade that locked securely in place when opened. The concept was that it would be able to do things a hunting knife could do (like skin and dress game animals). The Buck 110 style (the large folding hunter) has been widely copied and the term “Buck knife” is often used describe any large folding knife (like Kleenex is used for tissues and Xerox means making a copy).

I like the Buck 110 a lot and I’ve written about my custom Buck before, so when I recently saw an ad for an “automatic” Buck 110, I was hooked. An automatic knife is what we used to call a switchblade. You know, like in West Side Story. That would be cool. I liked that movie and I always wanted a switchblade. The automatic Buck 110 would scratch that itch. When I received an email from Chicago Knife Works offering the Buck 110 automatic for a measly $153, I was in.

A week later my switchblade arrived. I wasn’t happy with it. The bolster cutouts around the blade lock had tool marks. They weren’t mirror polished like they are on my other Bucks. It bothered me, so I called Buck Knife’s customer service.

Tool marks on the Buck 110 automatic. You might expect this on a cheap knife, but not on a Buck.

The guy I spoke to at Buck knew exactly what I was talking about. Buck changed their manufacturing process to remove cost and that’s why the tool marks were there (evidently, I wasn’t the first guy to call with this concern). I get it. I’m a guy who spent a career finding ways to reduce manufacturing costs in products ranging from bombs to biomedical devices, so I understood. But there was still this nagging problem: I spent $153 on the Buck and I wasn’t happy. The Buck guy understood that completely without my being a dick about it. “Send it back in to us,” he said, “and I’ll get it polished out.” They’re going to engrave my initials on the blade, too. That’s cool. A personalized switchblade. I felt even better when I went on the Chicago Knife website later that day and learned they had bumped the price of the knife I just bought from $153 to $199. Wow. It’s those Idaho tariffs, I guess.

The fact that I like pocketknives is out there now. Siri has been listening and I’ve been on a lot of knife websites. I get emails every day from companies selling knives.

The Ranch Boss II knife. It has a nice look and feel. I like it.

One of the emails that caught my attention was from good buddy Jeff Bezos. It was for a Cold Steel Ranch Boss II that looked a lot like a Buck. I guess I missed the Ranch Boss I (I came to the pocketknife craze late in life). The Ranch Boss. I like the name. I especially like the price: $39. Cold Steel. I like that name, too. There is a unit in the US Army (Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment) called Cold Steel Charlie, so named for their heroism and lethality. The marketing guys at Cold Steel ought to get a raise for that bit of branding genius. It sure worked its magic on me.

Amazon didn’t try to hide that the Cold Steel Ranch Boss II is manufactured in China. That didn’t bother me. I know from my CSC days and my many visits to Zongshen, Zebra, and other Chinese companies that there are companies in China making good products. The Ranch Boss. It has a John Wayne vibe. I could be a Ranch Boss. The Marlboro Man theme song played in my head. Ranch Boss. Yep, that’s me.

In the email and on Amazon, the Ranch Boss looked like a big, heavy folding hunter. $39. Complete with holster. Man, $39. That’s a sandwich with a beer these days. Buy now, and I could have it the next day. Yeah, it’s Chinese, and a real Buck is made in Idaho, but hey: $39. Buy now, Baby!

The Ranch Boss II knife is sold with and without the case. When I bought mine, the price with the case was a few bucks cheaper than the one without the case.

My Cold Steel Ranch Boss folding hunter was on my doorstep when Susie and I returned after our Jameson Motorcycle Museum 800-mile weekend. That’s one the porch pirates missed.

The spring-loaded liner lock. When the blade is opened, the liner lock moves over to prevent it from closing. To close the knife, the liner lock is pushed out of the blade’s way. You need to be careful when doing this.

You know, the Ranch Boss is a nice knife. It looks and feels good. It’s actually slightly larger than the Buck 110. It uses a liner lock instead of the Buck 110 lock design. The thing is sharp, as in razor sharp. I like the looks of it.

The finish on both the Buck and the Ranch Boss is brushed stainless steel. I like that look. The Buck has polished brass bolsters; the Ranch Boss bolsters are the same brushed stainless steel as the rest of the knife.

The Buck 110 scales are real ebony wood. They are riveted in place with brass rivets. The Ranch Boss scales are fake sawn bone. I imagine there’s a single supplier providing this material to several knife makers. I recently picked up an ultra-inexpensive pair of Old Timer Chinese-manufactured pocketknives at (where else?) Walmart. They were only $25, and the scales on those two knives look identical to those on the Ranch Boss.

Walmart Old Timer pocketknives, sold as a set for around $25. That little one is in my pocket all the time now. The scales are identical to the Ranch Boss.

I like that the Ranch Boss scales are secured with little Allen bolts instead of rivets. If I want to craft a set of custom scales of maple or walnut to match one of my six shooters, it will be easier to do than on the Buck. A real Ranch Boss has to be properly attired, you know.

Cold Steel’s SK-5 blade material. The steel is Japanese; the knife is Chinese.

Buck’s standard blade material is 420HC, a tough, corrosion resistant steel that takes a good edge and is easy to sharpen. The Ranch Boss knife blade is SK-5 steel, a Japanese steel that is well suited (or so I’ve read) for knife blades. It has good durability and abrasion resistance, and is generally corrosion resistant. The SK in the designation stands for steel kougu, which translates from the Japanese to “tool steel.” For my purposes, the differences in steels between the Ranch Boss and the Buck are moot. I just like looking at the things.

Both the Buck 110 and the Ranch Boss are big knives, with the Ranch Boss being a bit larger than the Buck. These are not really knives you carry around in your pocket. They’re cool.

The bottom line here is that I like both knives. The Cold Steel Ranch Boss II, at $39, is a lot of knife for not a lot of money. The quality of the Ranch Boss is better, in my opinion, than the Buck. But Buck is standing behind their product. I’m eager to see what my Buck 110 Automatic looks like when it is returned from the factory. I’ll let you know.

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In 1975 Greg Smith and I went on a long motorcycle ride. Greg had one of the first Goldwings, a pretty metallic blue motorcycle with a Windjammer faring. I had a BMW R75/5 also with a Windjammer faring and Samsonite bags. The ones with the soda machine, round key lock to hold the bags into the frames. We visited 41 US states and were on the road 3 months: Florida to California to Canada to Maine and most of the states between the coasts. In all that time I think we stayed in a motel three times; the rest was camping. Mostly we stayed at state parks for a dollar or commercial campgrounds with showers and toilets at the cost of around 2 dollars a night. If it was late or we were lost we would pull off the road and find an out of the way place to set up our tents. If it was really late or we were tired we would toss our sleeping bags on the ground and sleep just about anywhere.

Modern campgrounds are more like mini subdivisions now and the huge RV’s jammed cheek to jowl cost way more than houses did in 1975. But when we were discovering America on the Goldwing and BMW, tents were still popular. People camped out of their cars. KOA campgrounds were a luxury stay with plenty of hot water and clean bathrooms. We were on a strict 10 dollar-a-day budget back then, so eating at a restaurant was off limits except for cheap fast food places. We cooked all of our breakfasts and dinners. It was fun.

The very first motorcycle camp stove I bought was a Peak 1. Greg had one too.

New, the Peak 1 cost like 20 dollars, which was a huge amount of money back in 1975. I had bought many motorcycles for less money. The Peak was worth it, though, and has proven to be indestructible. It still works fine some 47 years later. Starting the Peak 1 has never been a simple process. You pump up the tank pressure and fiddle with the two fuel levers (instructions are printed on the side) and then a big yellow flame erupts from the stove. After a minute or so it settles down and you flip the small lever to normal operation. To adjust the flame use the long lever.

My Peak could use a new pump diaphragm but with determined pumping you can build enough pressure to light the thing off. After the cross tube gets hot the stove makes its own pressure. The colder it is the harder the stove is to start but it has never failed to start. The Peak 1 burns Coleman stove fuel or some stuff called white gas. White gas was available at many gas stations in the 1970’s so it was easy to fill the little tanks on our stoves for a few cents. A full tank would last a week of meals and coffee.

The Peak 1 is sort of big and heavy; I wouldn’t want to backpack with the thing. I don’t think gas stations sell white gas any more so you need the Coleman fuel. Any Wal-Mart has Coleman fuel. I used the Peak for many years until motorcycle camping became less likely to happen and I shoved the old warhorse onto a shelf.

For economy, nothing beats a penny, beer-can stove. They cost nothing. These little alcohol-burning stoves are super lightweight, probably the lightest you can get. You can’t buy a beer can stove, you’ll have to make one and YouTube has probably 1000 videos on how to build your own. The Cliff’s Notes version is you cut two beer cans and fit the two bottom bits together. Then you punch some holes for the flames to shoot out and a hole for filling the contraption. The penny serves to slightly pressurize the stove for a nice long flame. You’ll need some rocks or a wire frame to hold whatever you’re cooking. I used a bit of bent brazing rod.

Fuel for the stove is available everywhere. Drug stores, liquor stores (Everclear), auto stores (Heet) alcohol is ubiquitous in our country. The way it works is you fill the stove with a few ounces of alcohol, put the penny in the middle and light it up. The one I made lights easily. Some builders complain about hard starting. One fill up will boil a quart of water and burns for 12 minutes or so. The beer-can stove has its drawbacks. Once the thing is lit you don’t want to move it or tip it over. It’s all too easy to set your arm on fire. Don’t try to conserve fuel, let the stove run until it’s out of alcohol. Lastly, the stove is fragile and easy to crush: pack accordingly.

Now we come to my favorite stoves: these little butane stoves cost between $10 and $15 on Amazon. They are extremely compact, like beer can stove size but not as light weight. They use slightly hard to get butane canisters (Walmart again) but they start easily and boil water fast. I have two sizes. The larger one was the first type I bought and it’s now my go-to motorcycle camping stove. My buddy, Mike, bought the smaller burner so I had to get one, too. They’re cheap. The small one will fit anywhere. Folded up it’s about the size of your thumb after you smashed your thumb with a hammer. The larger one actually works better because the flame is spread over a larger area. Water seems to heat faster with the big one but I haven’t timed it.

You can get butane fuel in several sizes. For a short, 2-3 day camping trip the small canister will do. Oddly, the large canister of butane costs less than the small one and it’s good for a week of camping. When I pack for a motorcycle camping trip I try to save space everywhere. It kills me to pay more for less fuel.

My newest stove is this wood burner. It’s so new I haven’t even used it yet. It’s bulky but not so heavy. The photo shows the stove fully assembled and ready for use, it breaks down to about 1/3 the size for packing. The big idea behind this stove is you don’t need any fuel to run the thing. Wood twigs, leaves, bits of brush, anything that will fit in the stove and burn are fair game. The stove is designed with side-draft vents to help cut down smoking. I got it because I like the idea of free fuel in an unlimited supply. I’ve yet to camp where there wasn’t enough stuff on the ground to make a pot of coffee. The top is cut away so you can feed a steady supply of soiled baby diapers, 12-pack Budweiser cardboard cartons and discarded Covid facemasks into the beast. Cook your dinner and clean up the environment at the same time! Drawbacks are you have to use the stove outside. No brewing a nice cup of Batdorf & Bronson coffee in the motel room.

There are many other types of small camp stoves. Everyone is trying to design a better, smaller, lighter stove. Some stoves cost hundreds of dollars. That’s not my bag, man. I guess I am into motorcycle camping stoves like Berk is into armaments: a stove for every pot, as it were.