The Death of Evel

It would seem that Mr Knievel has made the giant jump to the otherside.

I have to say, in spite of his total nutjob nature, I have some respect for the guy. I am sorry that he is gone. Evel Knievel was an inspiration to me growing up, maybe.

Shit, he had that awesome get-up. He introduced a generation to tough talking, bravado. There was that bitchin' (actually kind of lame) wheelie bike toy thing.
When dudes like Burt Reynolds and Bo&Luke were making the act of jumping cars look like a Sunday drive, Evel was showing us reality.
And he came back for more.

How many guys have enough passion (or level of insanity) to repeatedly throw themselves into a speeding ball of broken bones - just because. The many missed attempts to hurdle enormous obstacles are what everybody remembers, forgetting the crazy stunts he actually pulled off.
Nothing but gravity would stand in the way of that man and his vision.
Not a hundred cars.
Not some giant casino water fountain.
No gaping maw of a canyon.
Not even Kanye West and a pack of lawyers.

I would bet money that he knew his crazy rocket sled was headed straight into Hell's Canyon. God-dammit, he said he was going to do it though. He lit the wick 'cause it needed to be done, slag off whatever laws of natue might stand in the way.

So here is to Evel Knievel.
Go do a wheelie, or something similar, in his honor.