Evol Knievel

Today I'm going to tell another of my old stories. This is another that makes you wonder how exactly it was that I survived to adulthood.

Our story takes place one summer when DevilBoy and I were, at most, ten. Anything more accurate than that has been forgotten by the both of us.

Like most kids that age, our primary mode of transportation at that time were our bikes. And, much like an older kid will do with a car, when we weren't using our bikes to go places, we were using them to do stupid things. In this case we were playing Evol Knievel.

DevilBoy's house was on a reasonably steep part of a large hill with three or for good sized houses to the nearest uphill intersection. So, we had a great way of getting up a lot of speed zooming down the hill on the way to his house. We just needed something creative to do with it.

To easier facilitate getting bikes up and down the front walk and to and from the shed, DevilBoy's father had had a ramp built for one particularly high step. This ramp was eight to ten inches high, about 18 inches long and made of wood. This made it perfect for our uses and very portable.

We put the ramp in front of DevilBoy's house and, for reasons I no longer remember, we decided that I would be the one to zoom down the hill and hit it. But first, in one of the precious few good ideas that day, we decided that I should wear some sor of head protection. DevilBoy had something that fit the bill nicely so I strapped on an old ski racing helmet that had been lying around his house.

I biked my BMX style bike up to the top of the hill and, a little tentatively the first time, rode down the hill and hit the ramp. I flew a little bit and had an easy landing. This really wasn't bad at all! I tried a few more times, peddling harder and harder each time. I jumped further and further. This was great fun! But... It wasn't enough. Eventually I reached a plateau and couldn't jump any further. Clearly what was needed was a bigger jump.

We looked around for a way to make the jump bigger... We searched and searched and eventually DevilBoy found a cinder block. The idea was that we would use it to prop up the jump, and then I would go soooo much further and higher after hitting this now much steeper jump. We congratulated ourselves for being so brilliant and I headed back up the hill.

I remember peddling hard. I remember passing under a tree branch. After that it gets pretty foggy.

According to Devilboy, I hit the ramp, then something went tragically wrong. I was catapulted over the handlebars and free of the bike, then landed on the hard concrete of the sidewalk. Apparently I laid there moaning for a second or two. And then the bike landed on me.

DevilBoy helped me up and then helped a very battered CanadaDave walk towards his house. I had scrapes and bruises all over my body. My hands, my back and my knees all had taken a beating, as had the helmet which almost certainly had saved my life. I have a very vague recollection of DevilBoy's mother coming out the door very alarmed.

I assume she drove us to the hospital, where I assume I was treated. I do know that I was bandaged up and diagnosed with a mild concussion, which explains why I remember only bits and pieces of this part.

My memory gets much better for that night. My poor mother was instructed to wake me every couple of hours and ask me a few questions to make sure that I was still coherent and not suffering any kind of serious brain injury. This normally consisted of asking me my name and where I lived. Which she faithfully did until early the next morning.

She knew for sure I was alright when sometime that morning I answered "My name is Darth Vader. I live on the Deathstar!"