True Story!!!
Hand to God.
That really almost happened.
I was watching, "I am Evel Knievel", the documentary movie about stuntman and legendary bad/jackass Evel Knievel on Thursday night and I was reminded of that time that he set my childhood home alight.
If you missed the show shame on you; it was great.
Those of you who remember life without cable TV are probably old enough to remember Evel's historic daredeviling. In that special time of the early '70's when, still reeling from the losses of the Vietnam War and recovering from the turbulent civil chaos of the late 60's, America wanted and needed a hero.
A man for and of the common man but a patently American man. Rugged. Forthright. Handsome and flawed. Like you and me only a lot less inclined to take anyone's B.S.
A guy that could drink and woo the ladies and fix a car or settle somebodies s@#t if they got outta line but do it with a little smile on the edge of their lip like they were just being sarcastic a bit because they've seen all this before and "they ain't really worried none."
It was in that special time and space that men like Steve McQueen, Clint Eastwood, and Evel Knievel made their mark. Men who talked little but acted quickly. Men who could tell you everything you need to know (right now) with a single, sharp glance or glare as the situation would call for.
For me it was Evel Knievel right from the start.
He had those cool leather biker suits and those loud as hell Harleys and all the bravado in the world.
Evel was a great showman and endless self promoter who knew how to keep the audience's attention thru years of doing small shows on the local dirt track circuits out in Montana.
Throughout the early to mid-70's Evel's stunts got bigger and bigger and more and more dangerous.
He jumped the fountain at Caesar's Palace and nearly killed himself at Snake River Canyon and again at Wembley Stadium trying to jump 15 buses. In the documentary he says he knew he couldn't make that jump over the buses because he didn't have the correct gear setup on his bike but he refused to back down and went ahead anyway.
He was so popular when I was a little kid that he had his own best selling toys.
And that's how the house nearly burnt down.
One year for Christmas I got:
The Official Evel Knievel Action Figure with Daredevil Motorcycle
and The Official Evel Knievel Scramble Van (with accessories)
That was a good year!
I played with those things all the time.
Evel jumped over the kitchen table and the coffee table and the dog and the cat and just about everything else in or outside of the house.
For several months my life was one big screamin, slidin', poppin' a wheelin', stuntmanin', nonstop adventure.
Good God I loved that little toy. We had a grand time riding around together.
But then came that fateful day when "The Source of the Trouble" was out of the house and Evel tried to jump "The Flames of Doom".
Ya' see, after a few months of stunt-manning our way up and down Ave J, Evel and I needed a new challenge. The crowd, i.e. me, needed something more thrilling, more daring, and way more riskiery!
What's a guy to do?
You gotta please your loyal fans.
So Evel and I decided to jump over fire.
Everyone knows that fire makes just about everything 58% better.
It's just good science.
So off Evel and I went to dig up one of momma's scented votive candles to liven up the show.
We put the candle on the roof of the Scramble Van, did our Hail Mary's, cranked up the Harley, and got ready to put on the most spectacular jump of our lives!
And WHAT a jump it was!!!
Damn you should've seen it!
Me and Evel sighted ourselves down a straight path from underneath the bedroom window to a few feet from the closet where the van was parked with "The Flames of Doom" burning brightly atop.
We did one trip around the room just to loosen up then we hit the throttle and with that front tire pointed at heaven off we went.
We hit the ramp right on target and our speed carried us up and over the rear of the van.
It was beautiful.
But we must've failed to accurately calculate the crosswinds because the rear tire dipped and just when you thought we would barely make it, the rear end caught the candle and tipped it over catching Evel's cape in the process. The cape erupted into flames burning my hand and scaring the bejeezus outta me. I threw the now fiery bike down but the forward momentum carried it into the closet where it continued to smolder. Meanwhile the hot wax melted the roof of the Scramble Van dumping the candle inside where it immediately burst into a ball of burning plastic.
Thick, black, putrid smoke filled the room in an instant and the young "pinche'r" panicked.
Never before had one of our stunts gone so horribly wrong.
We were unprepared for this possibility.
Of course, professional medical teams were always on standby for any of our jumps - we were stuntmen and we accepted that things occasionally went wrong - but something this catastrophic had never entered our collective realm of imagination.
It was awe inspiring and terrifying at once.
So I ran to the nearest water source: the hall bathroom. And I grabbed the first cup I saw: the Dixie Cups that hung on the wall by the sink. And I filled it and ran fast as I could back to the conflagration and threw the water on it.
Nothing happened.
Because Dixie Cups held about an inch or so of water at best and I spilled most of it running back.
So I ran again.
And filled the cup again and threw it on the fire again.
The fire sizzled and laughed and grew larger and hotter.
And off I went to get more water, growing more and more frantic as the fire continued to grow in the back bedroom.
My older brother finally noticed a slight whiff of smoke. That coupled with me running in and out of the hall bathroom got him interested enough to come see what the heck was going on.
Oh boy, did he yell when he saw that damn fire!
But he was calm enough to get the big pitcher out of the kitchen and douse the fire once and for all.
His yelling got "El Deucey's" attention and he came in and stomped out the fire just starting in the closet.
And there they stood, staring at their little brother and his melted toys for what seemed like forever.
Finally, "Deucey" said, "Mom is going to kill you", and walked out.
The other brother couldn't help but ridicule my choice in firefighting apparatus.
"Usin' a f@#ing Dixie Cup!?! Are you f@#ing kiddin' ME!?! What the hell is wrong with you!?!
A friggin' Dixie Cup? JeeZUS!!!" and walked out laugin'.
That was nearly 40 years ago and he still laughs about it every time he tells it.
Usually,, just after the story about how he put me in the dryer and turned it on.
I think "The Source" did nearly kill me that day.
It was long time before,
A.) the smell of burnt plastic went away.
B.) I could sit down without wincing.
And if you pull up the carpet in the back bedroom of the old house on Ave J, there on the tile, you can still see the black ring where my daredevil career with Evel came to an abrupt ending in a puff of black smoke.
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