No man ever crashed and burned more spectacularly than Evel Knievel. No one ever soared in our hearts the way he did.
We were certain there wasn’t anything Evel could not jump on his motorcycle. When we watched him perform, when we read about his stupefying stunts, we shared in his invincibility.
Thus, when we heard of his sad demise last week, we immediately missed him. We knew right away the world was never going to be the same without Evel Knievel, our star-spangled hero for the ages.
Since then, everywhere we have gathered, at home, at the motorcycle shop, in the bar, on the Internet, the sentiments have been the same: He was amazing, he was one of a kind, he will be missed.
Billy Rundle nailed it when he said:
“It’s been coming for years, but you just don’t expect it. Superman just doesn’t die, right?”
Rundle is a longtime friend and organizer of the annual “Evel Knievel Days” festival in Butte, Montana, Evel’s hometown where a memorial service will be held Monday.
Lynn Crosbie, a poet and cultural critic, captured the man when she wrote in The Globe and Mail:
“Knievel is one in a large list of those who have died, ultimately, in the lion’s mouth that is extreme risk, and, in death, joins . . . Dale Earnhardt, Amelia Earhart, Harry Houdini, explorer Robert F. Scott and boxer Ernie Schaaf.”
Sure, the last years were tragic in their sadness, but in the 1970s, Evel Knievel was a god to many.
Long will he ride in our hearts.
--Originally posted December 6, 2007
