Goodbye, Evel
I know it seems strange for a smartass jerk like me to be touched by the death of one of the men who helped make the 70s such a schlock-fest, but there you go. Evel Knievel died today.
I was a lower-middle-class teenager in San Antonio, Texas during the first two-thirds of that hideous decade, and you had to be dead inside to not be glued to the TV the day he tried to jump the Snake River Canyon on a rocket-cycle.
Happy landings, man.
