Well, yes, I met Evel Knievel...

In '66 and '67 I was parts manager at Honda of San Francisco, on Van Ness Avenue close to the center of the universe. I met lots of celebs, especially motorcycle celebs. It was then that I had lunch with the Harley-Davidson factory racing team and met my hero, Bart Markel.

I can't recall why, but I had lunch (at Zim's, a chain cafe a block away from Honda SF, then on Van Ness between Ellis and O'Farrell) with Evel Knievel, who passed away yesterday.

At that time, and until I met Robin Williams a few years ago, Knievel was the "most unforgettable character" in my experience. As with Williams, you could not forget that you were passing the salt to a household name. Williams is so disarming, so engaged in the conversation, that you get past that in minutes.

Watching Knievel across the table was like watching a fireworks show - surprise after surprise.

I saw an interview on TV last night with Knievel's agent. He described the daredevil's effort to gain access to the fountains at Caesar's Palace in Vegas for his jump there, a struggle to overcome the manager's stubborn resistance.

Knievel's manager said that Knievel had called the casino nine times, each time as a different person, never as himself. He told the manager over and over, call after call, that he'd heard that Evel Knievel was going to be performing one of his death-defying feats at the hotel, and he wanted to know the dates - so he could make travel plans. Eventually the manager caved.

I remembered him telling me how he lined up free motorcycles to ride for his feats - and vehicles to leapfrog over.

Knievel talked, in those days, like a country boy, and was happy, seemed to me, to let you think that he was a simple man - what you saw was what there was. But as you listened, you saw the truth - that he was a Barnum-style promoter, as some of the obits suggest.

He'd come to town, he told me, and he'd call a motorcycle shop or car store. He'd introduce himself as Evel Knievel's attorney, representing the daredevil star in search of a motorcycle to showcase for the upcoming jump. Or he'd call a dealer (or an importer or manufacturer) and claim to be Evel Knievel's agent, and try to promote a bike or a few bikes or seventeen Cadillacs.

"He only uses the best equipment," Knievel's agent or attorney would state.

"Everyone knows that," he'd say. "Who would choose to do the things he does on any bike but the best? Wouldn't you like your equipment, your brand of motorcycle, to be seen by thousands (later millions) as the carefully chosen, trusted brand of Evel Knievel?"

Almost exactly 40 years ago it was, my lunch with the jumper of Cadillacs. I remember his words and his voice, but my most vivid memory is my amazement that this aw-shucks Idaho boy was outfoxing big city slicks. And everyone won, huh?