This may have been said before, but...


So it's the 70's, and your tail-hunting exploits put you in a league where you can look Wilt, Steve McQueen and Gene Simmons squarely in the eye. And when some dude somewhere writes a book saying you tried to bang every girl in Utah or whatever, and your wife gets upset, what do you do? You grab a trusty accomplice and a Louisville Slugger, find the dude where he works, and beat his ass to a bloody pulp. Your defense in court? "Yeah, I did it. I think I did him a favor."

The generation that produced the likes of Evel and Burt Reynolds (imagine filming Smokey and the Bandit whilst banging Lonnie Anderson... YOU try and come down from that high) shall, in my opinion, perhaps never be equaled.

The difference I would buy a beer for those other dudes but not Evel---that dude was/is a right wing Christian fuck.

Big ups on that whole car jumping/banging broads thing though; homey had it going on.

But he couldnt hold Burt Reynolds' jock.

is this a thread about kellen winslow jr?

My Evel story (as previously shared via obner back in March):

About 10 years ago in a little bar/restaurant in my hometown of Lafayette, Louisiana and the debate was raging about whether the man having dinner in the other room was, in fact, EvelfuckingKnievel. After a couple of beers, I was voted the man most likely not to be bitch slapped by "The Legend" for disturbing him during dinner.

So, with the inspired confidence of my drinking companions, I walk into the other room and head directly for his table.

ME: "sir, i'm terribly sorry to disturb your dinner, but, if you are, in fact, evelfuckingknievel, would you please sign this so that i can bring it back into the bar and prove to my friends that you are, in fact, "The Legend" and thereby insure the peaceful enjoyment of the rest of your evening in our fair city."

THE LEGEND: "Sure thing kid. I am Evel Knievel and I'll be happy to sign this for you if you guys will let me enjoy my dinner."

ME: "thank you sir. by the way, what brings you to Lafayette?"

THE LEGEND: "Golf. Have a nice evening."

ME: "thank you again, sir - i'm a lifelong fan. good night and all apologies for the interruption."

. . .and that is the story of the only autograph i have ever asked for and the only autograph i will ever ask for unless i have a kid and he has a hero like EvelfuckingKnievel.

The only reason he had an accomplice hold the dude was that he broke both of his arms and wasn't sure how well he would be able to hold on to the bat with casts on both arms.

At age 10, my world revolved around three key figures:

Evel Knievel
Steve Austin, The Six Million Dollar Man
Billy Jack

I'm still fascinated by Knievel, though childhood adulation has turned to middle-aged consternation. I mean, this guy may very well have been the trashiest of all white trash to ever come down the pike. When the helmet was on, he was unequalled as a death-defying showman. But when the helmet came off, he was unequalled as a self-absorbed jackass. Undoubtedly, it was that very dichotomy that made him such a transcendent icon. In fact, lacking the jackass component of that equation is probably the main reason such stardom has eluded his bloated progeny, who does posess his papa's airborne cycle chops.

And see, I had no idea he was a nutjob nowadays. I don't admire that part. But yeah, dude jumped over buses and shit, and even strapped himself into a half-assed "rocket" to jump the Snake River. Try that, Johnny Knoxville. Stapling your nutsack to something just really isn't in the same league.