My Motorcycle History, Part 3: 'Evel'

It’s 1968, and I’m sitting in the Parts Department office at Bill Brownell Honda–Triumph, ordering parts, when in walks Evil Knievel. He starts ranting on about how someone has stolen his car and kidnapped his wife! He needs a ride to the Police Station, but first he calls the Enterprise Record to let them know what’s happening. I take a Honda CB750 off the showroom floor, Evel jumps on the back, and off we go to Chico City Hall. He tells the dispatcher that he was visiting his bone specialist and when he came out to leave, his car, along with his wife who was waiting in it, was gone! By then the reporter arrives and asks what all the fuss is about, and Evel repeats his diatribe.

In 1968 not many people have heard of Evel Knievel, but he has his ways of drumming up publicity. In reality, Evel did go to the doctor, but after the appointment slipped out the back door, called a cab and showed up at Brownell’s. His car and his wife were still parked in front of the doctor’s office. Evel got a blurb in the local paper…and he just happened to have a planned a jump over 12 cars at the Orland Fair a couple of days afterwards. Bingo; a few more folks attend the event. Cool.

We rode back to the shop, and soon after the police found the car and wife still parked at the doctor’s office.  Then Evel gets on the phone and calls talk show host Merv Griffin, telling Merv about the kidnapping, and how he wants to get a spot on his show. Now that is some true hustling. Evel would stop by the shop when he was passing through town and bring his Rolls Royce, 18-wheelers with ramps, bikes and roadies, and take over the shop. First he brought Triumphs, then American Eagles, and then Harley-Davidsons, as he always had a new sponsor.

In fact, when he was at the shop, all those phone calls, working on the bikes, putting up with the roadies and whatever else he could beat out of Brownell, he never mentioned or paid for any of it. Evel was a hustler of the first magnitude. I bet he got someone to sponsor his underwear.  This guy truly has an ego the size of Montana, but also the cojones to back it up.  And he never failed to put on a show, even when the conditions were far from perfect.

One of those far-from-perfect times was at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. It was storming badly that night, and there was an indoor AMA short track race going, and the pits were full of motorcycle racers. The deal was, Evil would go outside to the parking lot, gas his bike up to speed in the driving rain, enter the arena through the front doors, go down a ramp and onto the main floor then up the jump ramp over some fire trucks, on to a ramp and into the pits, and pitch it sideways to stop! Piece of cake.

Well there was one more factor. The Hells Angels had showed up, and were heckling Evel. They sat right over the entrance where Evel was to make his approach. As Eviel began his pre-jump warm-up runs, he and the Angels exchanged hand gestures. When Evel made his final run through the door at full speed, one of the Angels threw a Coke cup at him.  Amazingly, Evel made the jump and the landing in one piece.  Then he circled back to the entrance, jumped off his bike and started shaking his fist at the Angels to come down and get it on.  The Angels obliged, jumping down to the main floor, and suddenly it’s a fuckin’ war.

There were about 12 Angels, but the crowd was with Evel, and suddenly 200 racers and pit crews jumped in.  It was ugly and took 15 minutes to break up. It looked to me like most of the Angels were removed on stretchers, and some looked real bad. Anyway, back to the point: t his guy (Evel) was doing this back before Super Cross triple jumps, 12” suspension, and specialized techniques were in place.  No computers to figure out how fast to ride to make the distance, just ‘Let’s see, go x-miles per hour up the center of the ramp and hold on till it lands on the other ramp’. Wow! No knowledge of using brake and throttle to control motorcycle attitude. Only 4” of suspension on most of the bikes he rode. And had no practice or training, just balls to the wall. Truly amazing. Every time I saw him (he made 4 or 5 trips to Chico) it was always a show. At the time I didn’t think much of it – ‘B.F.D. some egomaniac with a stunt’. I’ve looked through my stuff and I don’t even have a picture or an autograph to show you. Oh well. I may be one of the few people on earth who ever gave him a ride on the back of their bike!