I will always remember the first time I laid eyes on Mabeline. It was the last day of April in 1971, the evening before my eigth birthday. My dad brought her home that evening but made her stay out in the eastside hall since everyone used the westside porch entrance and he was trying hard to keep Mabeline a secret. But I knew something was up. I sensed she was there. Ever since I saw her likeness in that winter's edition of the Sears Wishbook, I knew she was coming. And so, wandering around the house, dreaming of turning eight years old, I opened the old eastside hall door and there's she stood. Looking gorgeous standing there; her fire-engine red frame just looking to be ridden. And that three-speed shifter, forward of her banana seat, seductively suggesting just how fast this girl was going to go. My reverie was quickly broken as my dad rounded the corner and caught me fondling her, fondling Mabeline. That was her name, I knew that much instantly. I looked up at my dad and could tell he was trying to formulate a lie but in the end he just gave up, smiled and said, "yep, it's yours."
"Not it", I replied, "She's mine. Her name is Mabeline and tomorrow I'm Evel Knievel!"
The next day, my birthday, finally arrived and not even stopping for breakfast I was out the door on a mission of making last night's prophecy come true. I hopped on Mabeline and on the third or fourth pedal I had her wound up in third gear and we raced down to the stop sign and back. Twice. And then, without hesitation turned into the driveway, flew up the bank and launched ourselves to the sand-pit which was the back yard. I was astonished as both wheels left the ground - and my mind raced back three years, to New Years Day 1968.
It was incredible. It was Las Vegas. It was Evel Knievel jumping the fountains at Ceasar's Palace and it was on our TV. My eyes were glued as the patriotic motorcycle madman launched himself high above the fountains and 150 feet horizontally. I knew he was in Heaven at that moment, savoring every essence of a wonderful life. And then he landed. Bones broke and motorcycle shattered but I was too excited to notice such an aftermath; I was still flying with him, up and over the........
Backyard came up fast. My front wheel landed first, catapulting this birthday boy towards a row of pucker brushes and most certainly death. Death did not come however, but a smile did, against the pain and the pickies, a smile came - I had gone airborne, just like Evel Knievel had and I had soared just underneath Heaven's door, just like Evel Knievel had. And Mabeline? Well, she wasn't quite as shiny and virginal as she had been the previous night but she was in one piece. And I was too!
Mabeline lasted that summer and most of the next before succumbing to my abusive ways. I jumped her over logs, over sand piles and even over Abbott Creek - just like Evel Knievel. The only difference that I could tell existed between my hero and I was that occasionally he figured out how to land. Mabeline and I crashed every time. Eventually she got tired of crashing and her frame began to wear out. Eventually, even my love for her wore out and I began searching Sears Wishbooks for her replacements.
What never wore out was my idolatry, my passion and my love for Evel Knievel. I watched all his jumps back then. The aforementioned 1968 blockbuster in Vegas, the jump over thirteen buses in Wembley Stadium in the early 70's (my man got a cool $1 million dollars for that one), to the Snake River Canyon 'Sky-Bike' extravaganza in 1974 to the retiring-inducing jump over live sharks in Chicago in 1976. Evel was my pop culture. He was my king. And for the briefest of time, on that morning of May 1, 1971, as Mabeline and I soared towards the clouds; Knievel was me and I was Knievel.
This isn't the article I was planning on writing this evening, not even close. But you see, today, Nov. 30, 2007, at the age of 69, Evel Knievel has died. He has finally flew across the entire sky - right through Heaven's door. I'll miss him but I will always remember all of the dreams of greatness he instilled in my soul. Oh, just to watch him do one more jump; or to do one more jump in his honor. Hey, has anyone seen Mabeline?
[c]2007 Robert C Burnham
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Comments: 49
Let's hope he's jumped to the heights he has always wanted.
I remember the first time I jumped a bike. I was airborne and exhilirated and terrified, sure that I could not bring it down safely. Motorcycles, however, have an advantage over bicycles. They have a motor that keeps that back wheel spinning. When you land the driving wheel just propels you forward and away you go. Its soft and easy. I never did the real daring jumps that Mike (and others in our gang) did, I was a bit of a pansy that way. But I never failed to land a jump either. I can relate to how you felt as you emulate the the Evel one.
Your associated reminiscence, of your Dad giving you a treasured bike, was also very touching. There used to be an ad on Canadian TV for a department store chain called Canadian Tire in which a man reminisces how he wanted that red bike so badly but just couldn't bring himself to ask his Dad for it. Then on his birthday, the father says: "Hey, boy, come outside I got a couple of tire you can help me unload." Of course, outside, the father pulls the bike out of the back of his truck to the lad's amazement. It's one of those tear-jerking, tug at your heartstrings commercials that makes you feel a little pissed off that some corporation can play with your emotions that way. But your story had that ad running through my head right away.
One final note of convergence here: though I did not share your attachment for Evel Kneivel, this is none the less a solemn day for me. Today is the fifth anniversary of my dear mother's passing. You never really get over it, do you?
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I'm so sorry that our hero died today. My youngest son tried very hard to be just like him. He always wanted me to come watch him on his jumps. I saw a picture that his Dad had taken while he was doing this with nothiing but fresh air under him and I swore I would never watch him. My heart couldn't take it. He was always so sick as a youngster that when he got well, he tried a bit of everything. Thank God that passed.
We knew one of his cousins. She was much younger than Evel. My oldest son dated Lynn Knievel from Ranchester, WY for about a year. I wonder if she will be at his funeral. It's a big blow to all of us that followed his lifestyle. I hope he's where we all want to go. I'll grieve for him even though I didn't know him personally.
Barbara S.
I don't know all the Knievel children but grand-daughter Krysten, son Kelly and son Robbie will all be in my prayers this evening.
Mine was purple with the banana seat (metallic purple) - way rad! We knew where all the dirt piles were. I loved watching Evel jump as well - he captured the imaginations of daredevils and fraidycats alike! Great article - Looks like you had some gearing on Mabelline mine was just a push bike.
-Mark
the younger one's dirt bike into a tree fork about 8' off the ground. He was OK but the bike required extensive repair.
wonderful memories make the best posts don't they!!
Awesome!
I hope you had the time of your life back then. And, that you didn't break any bones.
He, he!