Posts Tagged ‘motorcycle’
In my pot-smoking days of the early 1970’s marijuana was a lot like Tupperware – it was passed around at parties and purchased with great enthusiasm. Pot was so pervasive back then, all you had to do was breathe in and there was a chance you’d get high. Some people didn’t want to take that chance. They were fearful of this “reefer madness.” Then they’d try it, and suddenly, it was reefer gladness. Their transformation was not done with smoke and mirrors – it was just smoke.
From ages 10-14 I partook of the giggle smoke whenever my elders were around. Now these weren’t parental-type elders. These were just elders who were older than me – older than David-the-Younger. Older, and more importantly, they had pot. It was like elders with benefits. The 1970s were a less judgmental time when you shared what you had without distinction of rank or age (thank you very much Woodstock generation). And from almost 50 years hence I recognize the following strange story might give the impression I’m high right now. I’m not. Except for a few salmon, David-the-Elder hasn’t smoked anything in decades.
In revisiting my cannabis memories, I’ve reanimated that familiar fuzzy state and in the process activated one mother of a flashback. In this case it’s a harrowing incident I’d like to share with you – an incident that is a constant reminder of the importance of choosing the right parents. Of course, as far as I can tell, children have never been consulted on the matter, so it’s a moot point. But what’s a valid point is that you have to play the hand you’re dealt: or, more specifically, the body and circumstances you’re born into. Once the veil comes down…Game On. And this episode I present is just one volley in that game.
This flashback has enduring power and has taught me to practice eternal vigilance. It’s not that I’m forever suspicious, I just try to be aware of my local circumstances – to see around the corners of my actions and anticipate their consequences. And although this bizarre yet authentic tale may sound like the product of a THC-influenced imagination, I once again assure you, David-the-Elder has NOT been smoking anything mind expanding – unless you want to count the salmon. But remember, no matter how much salmon you smoke, it’s just waist-expanding, not mind-expanding. Read the rest of this entry »
Answer: Reckless Daredevil of course.
Why anyone would suggest Evel Knevel secretly ate a plant-based diet is beyond me. Although since this suggestion came from me, how can it be beyond me? You think you’re puzzled, think how I feel. And furthermore, is this any way to begin an action-packed story about the daring exploits of Evel Knevel? Clearly I’ve got work to do. First I have to win you back, and secondly I’ve got to write an entertainingly white-knuckled story about Evel Knevel soaring above the earth, if only for a moment, while straddling a fulminating 50 horsepower engine between his legs in a dangerous yet delicate ballet of man and machine. So yeah, I get it. This story would be a whole lot better if it didn’t include my inner dialogue.
But the fact that I meander, digress and can’t seem to get out of my own way says more about the author of this story (me) than any of Mr. Knevel’s audacious feats. Sometimes I don’t know what I like more: Evel Knevel or the idea of Evel Knevel. At this point however, I believe the writer of this piece (again, that’s me) does a great disservice to the King of Motorcycle Jumping by continually inserting himself into a story that’s supposed to be about Evel Knevel. So I protest my own presence here (man vs. himself?) and will try to vector hard towards reigning in my ego and dedicating what’s left of this piece to a celebration of Evel’s daring motorcycle jumps – spectacular jumps in which the King shattered numerous records as well as numerous bones. Read the rest of this entry »