Evel in Utah! In the summer of 1974, I was 14 years old, my step-dad, who was into motorcycles, took me, mom and my 5 siblings/step siblings to a AMA Motocross race at the base of the famous Widowmaker Motorcycle Hill Climb hill at Point of the Mountain south of Salt Lake City. When we arrived the family staked out a spot with a view of the start finish area and some other parts of the course. A race official came over and asked if I would like to be a flagman on the course, I thought this was very cool and volunteered. I was stationed on a spot in the far southwest corner of the course. There was a drop away leading to a small kicker like jump that was immediately followed by a big arcing left hand turn up a deep sandy hill. It was probably the most difficult part of the track. Not because it was treacherous (there were only two crashes on my corner all day), but because the riders had a very difficult time negotiating the deep sand often finding themselves bogged down in too high of a gear.. This was one of only two times that all the great pro riders of the 70’s including Lackey, De Coster, Hannah, Karsmakers, Mikkola, Weinart, Smith and Wolsink came to Utah to race. That day was Hotter than Hades with no shade to be found in the desert like foothills, lots of sage brush and wild grasses but nothing more than waist high. I stood there all day eating dust. At one point my little brother brought me a popsicle, wow, that was a beautiful piece of frozen relief. It was the first AMA international race of the season, but the races were fairly uneventful from my perspective. There were no fans in my area and I was kinda just standing out there all alone with only one purpose; to wave the large yellow flag they had given me if one of the riders went down, thus warning the other riders of a crash ahead. I had no view of the start/finish area. It was fun, but I could barely tell who any of the racers were as they dashed past me all helmets and goggles in a cloud of dust… Until there was a break in the racing and the announcer came over the loud speaker telling everyone about a special guest. He asked for “a big cheer for Evel Knievel!” He then said that Evel would be making a lap of the course to greet at his fans. Evel was in the area to promote his Snake River Canyon jump later that summer. I could hear his bike in the distance rumbling around the course. He came into sight and passed me on a white Harley Davidson, it’s star spangled glory matched only by his white leather pants and jacket. I, on the other hand, was a dust covered kid in a t-shirt, standing all alone on the side of the track, he gave me a nod and headed for the sandy hill, on a Harley, a street bike, with street tires, a hill that powerful off-road bikes had difficulty climbing. He got stuck almost immediately, he looked over his shoulder and shouted for me to give him a push, I dropped the flag and ran to his assistance, it took all I had to get him going again and even then he made headway only slowly, at one point he nearly dumped it, but I caught both him and the bike while sinking to my ankles in the deep sand, I nearly busted a gut lifting up on him and the bike, for moment I thought they were both going to crush me. I got him going again and pushed him all the way to the top of the hill, I thought I heard him thank me as he roared off but I might have imagined it. My brush with greatness came and went in about 15 seconds. It is still a vivid memory for me. No one there to witness it other than some guys who didn’t want to pay to get into the race watching from the other side of a chain link fence, certainly Evel, even if he was still alive and jumping, wouldn’t remember it. I don’t think my family even believed me when I told them what had happened during the long drive home. Hahahaha.
Posted on: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 13:08:17 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015