Get back on your bike, tubby

December 19th, 2007

Childhood obesity. Everyone seems to be talking about it, but no one really seems to be doing anything; except that red and yellow fast food joint whose clown lures fat kids in by the billions, and recommends they try a salad. That is what they are going for isn’t it? Perhaps not. And that’s why we have the Fisher-Price Smart Cycle.

Fisher-Price is one of the world’s leading toy makers for preschoolers, and has stumbled onto something many people are saying is long overdue for every lard lad and gooey girlie who is laid out staring at the television all day with sugar-coated eyes and chocolate milk breath. What the Smart Cycle boils down to is a television based interactive electronic entertainment system. More than a game where players break a sweat trying to golf or roll a few gutter balls, the Smart Cycle does make children exercise, and in an educational and fun way to boot. The basic machine is a stationary bicycle meant for preschoolers that plugs directly into your television, and brings up a game called Learning Adventure that features driving, learning arcade games and The Big Race. As the name suggests, the driving mode allows a child to pedal through various environments, while picking up interesting tidbits of information along the way. The learning games are actual educational arcade games in which kids use a joystick to play and learn about letters, numbers and shapes.

The Big Race is the most fun of all, with a fast paced race against a friend or other vehicles on the screen. It would seem sensible to pry youngsters away from the television and have them running and playing outside, but this just isn’t possible for some people; and there are always going to be those kids who wouldn’t go outside even if they lived on a houseboat and their pants were on fire. If obesity in our society really is such a problem, why stop at a Smart Cycle for preschoolers. The concept should be extended to all corners of our gadget universe.

Imagine if every young person who sticks a cell phone in their ear had to charge its battery while riding a bicycle. Most seem perfectly capable of walking while talking on the phone, so why couldn’t the motion be used to power all their little phones, music players and digital cameras. Bicycle-powered televisions, DVD players, hair dryers, and chat rooms might even work; but why pick on our young people.

Obesity is an ugly cousin that visits most of us at some point, although I didn’t really begin to swell up until Mr. Molson and Mr. Labatt lured me and my friends in by the billions, and recommended we try a cold one. I would even volunteer to test the new Panasonic Smart Cycle microwave oven, provided it came with a healthy supply of popcorn, pizza pops or pork chops.

What a world it would be if the fatter you ate, the fitter you got. Before long we would be watching each other on bicycle-powered satellite TVs, winning gold medals at the Olympics. On second thought, that probably wouldn’t work, and the level of obesity in children is not going to melt away. Still, Fisher-Price's Smart Cycle, poised to be the next big thing in the toy world this year, is a healthy start.

The daredevil who refused to die

December 5th, 2007

“If it is possible, it is done. If it is impossible, it will be done — and that is what I live by. The only thing that can get in my way is fear, and fear is not a word in my vocabulary.” — Robert Craig “Evel” Knievel

It isn’t every day one of your childhood heroes dies. And no, I’m not talking about the urban peasant James Barber; although he was an interesting old fart, who knew his way around a kitchen, and was actually pretty entertaining on his daytime cooking show, in odd sort of uncle who always gets talking and burns supper kind of way. My hero was Evel Knievel, and he died on Friday at age 69, after fighting a three-year battle with lung disease.

Growing up with two brothers, I led an active life, full of bumps, scrapes, stunts and scabs. We managed to climb on, jump off, and basically destroy every nice thing my mother ever owned. We had a steep driveway, and raced down it on a regular basis atop toy trucks, go karts and, in the winter, anything that would slide at top speed. For all the trees we fell out of, bicycles we jumped, forts we built, and races we ran, none of us ever came home with broken bones. Mom did buy a lot of milk back then.

What made Evel Knievel my number one hero was how he could turn thrills into disaster, break more bones than I thought a body had, and come roaring back for more. His courage was unmatched, and his only enemy was fear. One of his first stunts was to “pop a wheelie” with an earth mover, while working at a mine near his home in Montana. He was fired when one of his wheelies knocked out the town’s main power line. To make ends meet in those lean, early days, Knievel was a struggling rodeo rider, ski jumper, pole vaulter, hockey player, burglar, insurance salesman (who sold several policies to mental patients) and a hunt guide who guaranteed success by taking his clients hunting in Yellowstone National Park. Finally finding his calling as a stunt rider, he began by jumping rattlesnakes and mountain lions. He soon graduated to cars and trucks, and started breaking bones. One of his first mishaps came while trying to jump over a speeding motorcycle. He jumped late, got smashed in the groin by the handlebars, and was thrown 15 feet in the air.

Knievel still holds a world record for 40 broken bones. In the end, the world’s greatest daredevil fought through 40 years of constant pain for all those broken bones, plus the trauma from some of the most spectacular crashes a human body has ever endured. In addition to his numerous surgeries, Evel also overcame the obstacles of diabetes, hepatitis, a liver transplant and two strokes.

For a while there, I was convinced he couldn’t die. Although he certainly should have. His 1967 jump at Caeser’s Palace in Las Vegas is legendary, and still difficult to watch as his body crumples inside his leather suit, leaving him in a coma for 29 days. Only four months later he was at it again, breaking a leg trying to clear 15 Ford Mustangs. The man lived hard, and fought hard to live.

Evel Knievel called himself the last of the gladiators. And that’s how I’m going to remember him.