Bad to the (broken) bone: 3 local daredevils vs. Evel Knievel
On Sept. 8, 1974, legendary daredevil and ’70s lunch box fixture Evel Knievel attempted a death-defying leap over the Snake River Canyon. Though Knievel was a household name, his fame and reputation were on the decline. The much-hyped Canyon jump—in which the self-styled stuntman planned to sail over the imposing Idaho canyon in a homemade rocket—was an attempt to regain some of his lost prestige. Unfortunately, shortly after launch, the parachute in Knievel’s Skycycle X-2 deployed prematurely, resulting in an uneventful, botched jump. The failure proved to be a fatal blow: Two years later, Knievel would end his career by jumping—fittingly—over a tank of live sharks. Once again, he would fail, breaking both arms and taking out the eye of a nearby cameraman.
But despite all the blown attempts, broken bones, and the daredevil’s own demise in 2007, the mystique of Knievel lives on. His unlikely story—a workaday schlub from Butte, Mont. makes good jumping his motorcycle over increasingly unlikely shit—is proudly and uniquely American. In honor of the recently opened “True Evel: The Amazing Story of Evel Knievel” at the Harley-Davidson Museum (which runs through Sept. 6), The A.V. Club went looking for some more daredevil action and found three death-defying local examples worthy of the legendary jumpsuit-clad madman.
Fuddruckers’ 5-pound burger challenge
In a society currently obsessed with children and children’s safety, the very notion that Evel Knievel once served as a kiddie role model seems patently absurd. Perhaps it’s inevitable that a new kind of daredevil should arise in recent years: the competitive eater. Trading star-spangled jumpsuits for soggy hot dog buns, these culinary crackpots are clearly more relatable for today’s tubby American teens. After all, why would kids in 2010 be interested in crazy backyard stunts when they can simply stay on the couch, mow down an entire bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and grief their friends on Call Of Duty for six hours straight?
Never ones to let a good trend—or the specter of coronary angioplasty—pass them by, the fast-food industry has quickly pounced on the competitive eating movement. In Brookfield, for example, the local Fuddruckers has become renowned for its massive, artery-and-shame-busting 5-pound burger challenge. Finish the beast, and your name and sweaty visage will be forever immortalized on Fuddruckers’ walls, probably buried underneath a ton of other faux-kitsch. Sadly, the challenge is limited only to Fat Tuesday (March 8, 2011 for those keeping score), though fame-hungry customers can get plenty of practice during the off season with the suburban restaurant’s not-unimpressive 1- and 2-pound burgers.
Division BMX Stunt Team/Breakaway bicycle couriers
Perhaps the two local groups that share the most DNA with Knievel are Division BMX and Breakaway, which carry on the daredevil’s love of two-wheeled trickery and mayhem. Division BMX has been a fixture of the summer festival and block-party circuit for years, wowing sunburnt crowds with its stable of acrobatic, insanely talented riders. The group’s next demonstration will be at the Brady Street Festival on July 24, nearly 43 years after Knievel unsuccessfully jumped 16 cars in Graham, Wash., leading to a serious concussion. (He would attempt the same stunt less than a month later, this time breaking his left wrist, right knee, and two ribs.)
Similarly, Milwaukee’s Breakaway bicycle couriers carry Knievel’s crazed, devil-may-care attitude into the 21st century, putting their lives at stake 10 hours a day, five days a week. Far from the Snake River Canyon or the fountains at Caesars Palace—where Knievel famously crushed his pelvis, broke his hip, and ended up in a coma for nearly a month—the riders of Breakaway traverse the winding streets of Milwaukee with unnerving speed and style. The fixed gear-wonders are consummate professionals, however, and can get a package from one end of downtown to the other in less time than it takes Robbie Knievel to milk his father’s legacy one last time.
The Daredevil Christopher Wright
Songs that serve as an unofficial soundtrack for Evel Knievel’s bad-ass career—“Born to Be Wild,” “Highway Star” anything by George Thorogood—are cut from a hardscrabble cloth that also makes them perfect for audio punch lines in nearly every misbegotten John Travolta or Robin Williams vehicle of the last 20 years. The Daredevil Christopher Wright, on the other hand, trades in music that would seem to be at odds with its death-defying name. But don’t let names fool you: Songs like “The East Coast” and “Stewardess”—both off the group’s excellent In Deference To A Broken Back—betray a certain unabashed musical braveness, and point the way to a new, equally brave, definition of Americana.
The Eau Claire group will bring its high-flying indie-rock Aug. 28 to Milwaukee’s Turner Hall, 39 years after Knievel made an unsuccessful jump at Philadelphia’s Spectrum arena. Though we’re not exactly betting men and women at The A.V. Club, we’re guessing the Turner show will feature slightly less motorcycle-borne gymnastics, shattered clavicles, and breathless commentary from ABC’s Wide World of Sports’ Howard Cosell.
