Damn.
I don’t typically take much note of dead celebrities but Evel Knievel was a childhood idol of mine ranking up there with Graig Nettles and Batman. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I would attempt to duplicate his stunts as a kid, from jumping across my twin beds, to jumping from the dresser to the bed to, once, attempting to jump from my 3rd floor bedroom window to the roof of the garage next door. She caught me before I could pull of that last stunt.
I owned the motorcycle in the picture above, and a few other Knievel toys.
As a pre-teen, bicycles were my vehicle of choice for daredevil stunts like jumping curbs and ramps or purposefully crashing into bushes and trees, jumping off at the last second to avoid getting hurt. Usually.
More recently, I enjoyed the Ghost Rider movie as much for its goofy take on one of the more ridiculous comic book characters ever as for its homage to Knievel.
I’ve tried a few times over the years to write a poem about him but it never clicked.
R.I.P. Bobby.
I feel a poem coming on.
ETA: And here it is!
