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.