For the Love of Evel Knievel

It was 1973 and I was 5 years old but I can remember these toys as clearly as if I had walked by them in Target last week. I can remember the grinding and humming sound the launcher made as I wound it as fast as my little arm could go. I would hit the release and the motorcycle would speed up that ramp and through the ring of fire, Evel Knievel tumbling to a stop beyond. It was a thrill every single time. I used the tools to work on the cars and can remember their weight in my small hands. I remember Evel's hard chest, snazzy suit and those brown plastic curls under his scuffed white helmet. These were my favorite toys and almost the only ones I remember from my early childhood. Evel Knievel was the coolest. I wanted to be Evel Knievel. As I look back, I can't help but wonder why my mother was shocked when I came out at 21.