Before Rick Hinder became a knife maker, he was a jockey.
He worked with horses while attending small high school in a small town in Ohio. After graduating, he attended Ohio State University's Agricultural Technology Institute, where he studied horse training and agriculture. “I thought earning my degree would give me a better shot when working with top-class farms,” he said.
“I wanted to give my peers a knife when he retired from the military. I didn't have the money to buy, so I thought, 'I'll just make it.'
While at ATI he met his wife. His family performed breeding surgery on a quarter horse. Growing up, he was bouncing around Central America, moving from place to place. By then, however, his Ohio roots had grown deeply. He was moving well. It's time to be put.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lw36ffnm8dw
Then the fire came. For over a decade, Rick was a firefighter and EMT. This added another level of complexity to his knifemaking. Knifes were needed to meet the demand and pace of emergency rescue.
“When a crisis requires tools, it's a better job,” he said. “I saw firsthand how important reliability is. I don't want the gear to be a second guess when the heat is on. That idea went into every knife I made.”
The horse gradually faded into the background and he left his firefighter job, but the knife remained constant. Over the years, his craftsmanship has become unmistakable. It is impossible to fake, like a painter's brushwork.
He has no choice: “If I haven't created something, if I haven't made it, I'm not breathing.”
Once a jockey…
These three components – horse, steel, fire – form DNA of Hinder knife. Rick's logo – the head of a horse with a flame mane – has two major influences in his life. “I wanted it to reflect my background,” he said. “The horses are my first love, and the fire represents my year as a firefighter. It makes sense to combine them.”
In recent years he returned to horses and rekindled his early passions. It is fitting, considering he approaches both fields with both the same patience and craftsmanship. “People ride their horses and look at my photos and say, 'Yeah, now I've got my logo,'” he said.
Lately, he's been thinking about time. About the arrival of Fulkul. He returned to the saddle. His trypoint harmony is now thriving.
“I learned three years ago that I was a former jockey and always a jockey.”
Shortly after he returned to horses, he traveled to Gettysburg and did a guided tour of the battlefield known as Wheatfield. As they fell, the air began to change, the veil sank into the sky, and the birds chatted nervously.
He didn't expect a partial solar eclipse, let alone riding a horse. His wife was inspired by the occasion and was named Knife: Eclipse.
It was poetic, as if God had reorganized him.
Renaissance man
I spoke with Rick Hinder via video from his shop in northeast Ohio. There, the hinder knife created a unique design that sold out quickly. He's an easy person to talk to. He smiles quickly, full of stories and insights, and deeply respects the work of his hands. We talked for an hour and could have spent much longer.
There's something refreshing about a craftsman like him. An artist-hearted outdoor man, spiritual Chinese, yet wired for accuracy and beauty. The hinder blends sturdy practicality with creative finesse.
And that made me wonder – why didn't I start profile American artisans faster? All of these years were spent interviews with political and cultural heavyweights, big brave opponents, and occasional Primadna. Thinkers, speakers and debates were intertwined with the opera of their endless ideas.
Meanwhile, men like Hinder get to work and turn steel into something that continues.
“I just did something that made sense.”
Like many great craftsmen, Rick did not enter his trade through formal training, but through necessity and curiosity. “When he retired from the military, I wanted to give my peers a knife,” he said. “I didn't have the money to buy, so I thought, 'I'll just make it.' ”
At the time, he had already forged stables, so the blacksmith was a second nature. He pounded the first knife from the old ploughpoint, shaping the steel with more intuition and grit.
“I didn't even know that custom knifemaking was an object,” he admitted. “There was no internet or forum at the time. We did something meaningful.”
That first knife found a way into the collection, but Rick owns the second knife he has ever made. “I see it now and think, 'Wow, that was tough,' but considering that I had to work with, I'm proud of it. ”
The knife became an obsession. He hones his skills, learns everything he can, hone his techniques, and ultimately he is sturdy, beautiful and a little quirky.
“James Hetfield of Metallica once said he didn't know where his lyrics came from, and that's how I feel about my design.”
Pride of ownership
People often ask Rick Hinder why they should buy one of his knives instead of something from Walmart shelves. That's a fair question. “Prices differ from some of the knives that come from overseas,” he said. “So what are you getting? Each one cuts. So, what are you really paying?”
That question cannot be answered in one sentence. Sometimes it takes more than an hour to explain. “There's a lot to it, before I got into the historical aspect.”
He loves to work with people who are not collectors or knife enthusiasts. You may not know the difference between a production knife and a high-end custom blade.
“It reminds me of my time sitting at a gun show in Medina, Ohio in 1991,” he said. “The internet existed, but not today. People didn't have easy access to custom knife makers. So they walk by my table, look at the knife, check the price, and go to 'Oh, my gauche'. And it gave me the opportunity to explain. ”
Something changed as they held the knife in their hands. “You'll see that enlightenment reaches your face. Then they bought a knife and came back two months later and showed you how they dressed up ten deer, bears, or processed games for all their companions.
But beyond performance there is something else. It's not visible, but just as realistic. “Pride in ownership,” he said. “When you hold the knife and think, 'Yeah, I got this, this was made by someone,' it's that feeling. ”
Each knife comes with an assembly card signed by the artisan who put it together. “I know who built it,” he said. “Maybe it was Amanda, Kim, or Lane. Maybe Mike had milled the blade, or Zack had water jetting.
That's the difference. “This is not a gas station knife from China,” he said. “This is hinder.”
Design for the real world
Rick's work is the most important tool. “A knife is a knife,” he told me. “If it's just art, it's sculpture. The knife needs to work and use. I'm the first to design it for that.”
That philosophy is evident in everything from his choice of steel to the ergonomics of his designs.
“The knife should work for you, not against you,” he explained. “It feels natural in your hands, balances it, and don't create hotspots during long periods of use. Weight is a big factor. If the pocket knife is too heavy, you won't carry it.
One of the most important innovations in Hinderer is the three-time pivot system that allows users to switch between bearings, phosphorous copper washers and Teflon washers according to their needs. “Some people want very smooth action, so they use bearings,” he said. “But if you're in a rough, muddy environment, you want the reliability of your washing machine. With the Sando system, you can choose the one that suits you.”
American craftsmanship
He doesn't just mean it in a patriotic sense, but it's part of it. The US has long been at the forefront of knife manufacturing technology, and Rick believes that supporting domestic manufacturers is to maintain that legacy.
“This is where most of the knife design and innovation we saw today started,” he said. “If you need that level of quality, you need to develop it.”
That commitment extends to every step of the process. “We don't order parts from overseas. We don't cut corners. If you buy one of our knives, you get something that was designed, designed and built by American hands.”
The heart of the manufacturer
Despite Rick Heinder's claim that the function comes first, there is no denying that his knife has a clear aesthetic appeal. “Funny,” he said. “I started making simple and sturdy tools. But I became a forged, Damascus, gold inlays – a real art knife. I learned from people like Hugh Bartlag, the best in the industry, and my designs still have that influence.
The Hinderer knife is an extension of the person who uses them. That's why Rick encourages customers to do their job. “The knife is not intended to be seated in a display case,” he said. “You're not grateful for everything that goes into them until you use them.”
“That's really hard to explain to someone,” Hinder told me. “Some people just get it. They hear about the writer's block. It's the same kind of thing. If you try to force it, it has to come.
He usually rushes to write it down.
“I'm worried it might go away,” he told me. “Later, I see it and think, 'Oh, my goodness, I think this will work.' ”
His wife knows what she's looked like so far. “She calls it my 'thousand-yard stare,'” he said with a laugh. “She asks me what's wrong, and she remembers – “Oh, you're thinking about the knife.”
But before the pen meets the paper, the design becomes a form in his mind. “Many times, I don't sketch anything until I work mentally,” he said. “I think about lines, mechanisms. How can I improve something, what adjustments can I make? I think about it over and over again before I put it.
That is the heart of the manufacturer. Always spin and always look for the next step, refined next.
“Looking back, you can see how every part of my life has led me here,” he told me. “The horses, the fire department, the blacksmith – it all came together, that is God’s hand.
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