Today, I’m thankful for the ability to enjoy the thrill of the moment.
We have come upon that time of year when everyone begins to go a bit batty.
As November comes to a close, we have officially entered a season like no other – one categorized by the climax-inducing countdown towards the year-end Holiday season. The passing of Thanksgiving is almost instantaneously filled with a slate of made-up retail holidays intended for us to take out our credit cards and spend away most of what we’ve saved over the last 11 months. Whether its Black Friday, Cyber Monday, or Giving Tuesday, the primary purpose of each of these events is to remind us that the year-end festive season deserves our upmost attention. Whether the countdown culminates in Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, or just New Years’ Eve is entirely up to your own religious or philosophical beliefs. Frankly, the commercial industries that do most of their profit at this time of the year do not care what holiday you celebrate, just as long as we are willing to pay financial homage to their commercial altars. With this in mind, we are constantly bombarded by in-your-face reminders (with each television commercial or internet ad) that there are only ‘X days until Y.”
We all fall victim to the thrill of the Holiday moment. In my house, we have a small decorative elf ornament sitting on the window sill over our kitchen sink that displays the number of remaining days until Christmas. For as long as we’ve been parents, my wife and I have purchased advent calendars for each of our three children during this season, so they can enjoy a daily dose of chocolate with the countdown. And, of course, if that’s not enough, we have several wonderful radio stations that transform their programming to only play Holiday music during this jolly season.
In many ways, our lives are made up of interesting time units that we divide up to fill out our hours, days, weeks, and months. And before we know it, the countdown is over and the year is gone. In the book About a Boy by the British author Nick Hornby, we meet the main protagonist Will Freeman – a rich, carefree Londoner whose life is devoid of any meaning or responsibility. Living off the royalties of a successful Christmas song that his father composed years before, Will fills his days with 30-minute time units because “full hours can be a little bit intimidating, and, besides, most activities only take about half an hour.” We learn that every activity is broken down into the number of time units it takes to complete the task. Whether it’s one time unit to take a bath, two units to complete an exercise routine, or 3-4 units to watch a movie, Will trudges through his pathetic life, until he finally realizes that the thrill of life must involve something more than this banality.
And, what Will Freeman discovers is essentially what we all need to figure out in life. How do we enjoy the thrill of each day, each hour, and each moment? I’m not sure I have the answer. Perhaps this is why some choose to find entertainment in thrill seeking behavior, essentially willing to risk it all for a climatic few seconds or minutes of adrenaline-filled pleasure.
Bungee jumping.
Sky diving.
Mountain skiing.
Parkouring. And, of course, America Ninja Warrioring.
But, long before many of these thrill-seeking behaviors (and television shows) became the norm, one motorcycle-riding fiend became the world’s quintessential daredevil with his death-defying stunts. Robert Craig Knievel Jr. was born in 1938 into the blue-collar, rugged town of Butte, Montana. For most youth born in Butte, life as a young adult often culminated with a job in one of the surrounding copper mines, ranches, or ski resorts. Robert did not have many role models in his life; in fact, after his parents divorced, he moved in with his grandparents who did their best to raise him. Although he was an excellent athlete in school, he really was not interested in his academic studies. Instead, he often found himself on the wrong side of the law. Once, after stealing a motorcycle and crashing it after a joyride, he found himself in the Butte prison. The night jailer, who liked to pass out nicknames to all the inmates, started calling Robert ‘Mr. Evil Knievel.’ After finally being released, he realized that school was no longer his forte. Once his sophomore year in high school ended, he dropped out to become a diamond drill operator in one of the local copper mines. Not surprisingly, Robert found the job mundane and boring – in essence, he could not fill the requisite ‘time units’ by staying gainfully employed. So, one day at work, he tried to pop a wheelie with the earthmover he was commandeering. Unfortunately, he drove the heavy machinery into one of Butte’s main power lines, resulting in a virtual blackout to most of Butte for the next few hours.
So, Robert sheepishly left town looking for the ‘thrill’ in his life.
He tried his luck in local rodeo competitions, ski jumping contests, and a stint in semi-pro hockey. He even joined the US Army where he became a paratrooper until he was discharged. With a love of motorcycles, he became enamored with motocross racing, where he learned to jump over dunes.
After moving to Moses Lake, Washington, Robert found work in a motorcycle shop, where the owner’s son taught him numerous tricks on the motorcycle, including how to perform a ramp-to-ramp jump. Seeking ways to drum up business for the motorcycle shop, Robert came up with the most unusual idea. He decided he would make a motorcycle jump of about 40 feet over a 20-foot box filled with rattlesnakes and two mountain lions contained in a cage. After renting a venue, passing out fliers, and selling tickets, the 28-year-old got on his motorcycle in front of an excited crowd of about 1,000 attendees and proceeded to make the jump. He made the jump but fell short, with his back wheel landing on the box containing the various poisonous asps. He escaped without much harm, much to the crowd’s delight. So, that day, Robert Knievel decided to forego his normal routine for a lucrative career as America’s daredevil.
Over the next decade, ‘Evel’ Knievel (as he called himself – note the one change in vowel to take on a less sinister tone) would entertain the world with his crazy stunts. Together with his makeshift troupe, coined the Evel Knievel’s Motorcycle Daredevils, he would entertain ever-increasing crowds with motorcycle wheelies, rides through fire-burning tunnels, and, of course, ramp-to-ramp jumps. While in Las Vegas in 1967, he convinced the owner of Caesars Palace to allow him to jump over the famed fountain in front of the hotel. Unfortunately, the rear wheel of his motorcycle caught an edge as it launched off the ascending ramp. He landed short with such impact that the handlebars were ripped from the bike. He proceeded to tumble, head over heels, for the next few seconds helplessly into the parking lot of the adjacent Dunes Hotel. Nevertheless, the crowd erupted in wild excitement. He suffered a concussion that left him in a coma for nearly a month, while he recovered from a crushed pelvis, a mangled femur, and a litany of fractures to his wrist, ankle, and hip. Nevertheless, his stunt set a record jump of 141 feet, further cementing him as an American legend.
So, after he recovered, he set off on performing increasingly dangerous stunts – each a bit odder and longer than the one before. ABC Wide World of Sports picked up his next 5 stunts, which catapulted him into American lore. He embraced the role by wearing a colorful star-spangled jumpsuit and showcasing his charismatic personality during pre-stunt and post-stunt interviews.
He jumped over 15 Ford mustangs in Scottsdale, Arizona.
19 cars in the Houston Astrodome.
13 London Buses in Wembley Stadium.
14 Greyhound buses at Kings Island in Ohio.
Some stunts were successful, while others failed miserably – like his attempt to jump the Snake River Canyon in Idaho or a tank full of sharks in Chicago.
All in all, Evel Knievel attempted more than 75 ramp-to-ramp motorcycle jumps in his career. He garnered the admiration of million of American youth (including yours truly), while collecting more than 35 bone fractures and millions of dollars in contracts, advertisements, and other royalties. When he finalized died on this day (Nov 30) at the age of 69, you’d think the cause was tied to some thrill-seeking expedition. But, in reality, he suffered from Hepatitis C cirrhosis (acquired from his repeated blood transfusions) and pulmonary fibrosis (likely brought on by all his trauma).
So, the morale of today’s story is clear. Spend your time units wisely. Although we should live life to the fullest and enjoy the thrill of the moment, you don’t have to go overboard, like Evel Knievel. And, with that, I’ll close out this less daring blog entry, which incidentally absorbed about 2 of my time units.
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