The Day I Fell for Evel Knievel

I've just been told that stunt legend Evel Knievel died.

My first reaction was to line up all of the furniture in the living room, get a running start and jump over it, as kind of a tribute, but we just mopped the floor, so it seems like that could be dangerous.

I'm such a scaredy cat now that I'm older. I used to be fearless when I was a kid.

The story in my family goes, that when I was like 2 or 3, I wanted to be just like Evel Knievel, so I took my tricycle and drove it off the tall porch in front of our home -- about a five-foot drop. My sister, who was about 3 or 4 at the time, immediately notified parental authorities about my daredevil drop. "Mommy. Daddy. Drinking friends. You might want to come outside. I think Adam is dead."

But I wasn't dead. By the time the adults reached the porch I was already back on my feet, smiling about my amazing feat... OK. Actually I was crying like the little baby that I was, but I think there was a part of me that wanted to try it again and again. There was a little Evel in me back then. Now it's gone. And now he's gone...

Maybe someday when my son -- who's 1 or 2 right now -- gets older, and he's riding his trike or bike on the porch, I'll push him off. And then I'll slowly walk over, pick him up off the ground, wipe away his tears and tell him about a man named Evel Knievel.