I'll start off by acknowledging that yes, this post is only slightly related to movies. But the main subject did appear in several films and actually starred in one feature film. So allow me this indulgence, since the subject in question is no doubt familiar to you in some way or other.

Sunday night in Butte, Montana, there will be a final farewell to a unique American icon. One last goodbye for a man who carved out a lasting legacy from resounding stubbornness, bravura and sheer lack of common sense.

Evel Knievel is dead.

He passed away last Friday at the age of 69 after years of struggling with diabetes and a chronic lung condition, his body finally giving out on him after enduring many more years than it had any right to, considering the abuse it took over the years. Dozens of broken bones, a string of surgeries to put his shattered body back together after one bad fall or another. Robert Knievel seemingly lived by the motto 'if it ain't it broke ...well, give me time. I'll get around to it.'

Evel Knievel is dead.

For many people, that's hard to fathom. Not for the twenty and thirty-somethings who watched him perform his insane stunts back in the late 60s-early 70s, like leaping over the fountains at Caesars Palace in 1967 or trying to rocket-cycle over Snake River Canyon. Those were adults.

They knew the risks he was taking were very real. I'll bet a good number of them paid their money wondering if they were going to witness something spectacularly fatal. Not making a judgement. That kind of curiosity is part of human nature. Knievel knew that and cashed in on that during much of his career.

No, i'm talking about the little kids. The children who thought Evel Knievel was superhuman. I'm 36 years old, which means around the time that I could actually start telling the difference between Bert and Ernie, Knievel's time as an international superstar was already coming to an end. His time as Sports Illustrated and Rolling Stone cover boy had come and gone. But from the moment I saw the ads in the back of the comic books I was reading as a five year old for the Evel Knievel stunt cycle and other toys, I was fascinated by this bike-riding superhero. He was an action figure come to life.

I wanted to be a daredevil because of Knievel. Wanted to go to whatever school would train me to be like Evel Knievel. I acquired many bumps and bruises from trying to emulate my hero, which greatly concerned/annoyed my parents.

I pleaded with my folks (successfully) to get me the Knievel stunt cycle. I even made them take me to see "Viva Knievel!" which was a terrible movie even to the not-so discerning eye of a young kid (has there ever been a more accurate signal that your time in the pop culture spotlight is over than releasing a film about yourself?). To kids my age back then living in a 3-channel universe, Knievel was larger than life. He had the coolest job, the best outfit this side of Steve Austin's red jogging suit ... and he did it all while riding a motorcycle!!

As I grew older, things changed. "Star Wars" made me want to drop out of daredevil school and join the Jedi academy. Knievel sightings became rarer. I also started to wonder about all his injuries. If he's so great, how come he always wound up breaking something? Why can't he stick all his landings?

It dawned on me that Evel Knievel was more famous for his failures than his successes. The bubble had burst for me. He wasn't a super-cool daredevil, just a crash-test dummy with spectacular wipeouts. He went from being a hero to a sideshow for me.

I moved on. So did everyone else, as Knievel basically fell off the map for quite awhile.

Movies became bigger and more bombastic. Arcade games blew up, then video games brought the gamers home to the couch, where they've remained firmly in place for 25 years. Evel Knievel meanwhile, was MIA. As if he'd tried to make another death-defying jump, only to fall short and never to be heard from again. I didn't realize it until many years later, but Knievel's career had been derailed in 1977 by his legendary temper.

He attacked the writer of a biography that Knievel found offensive with a baseball bat, shattering the man's arm. Knievel was sent to jail for six months. When he was released, his career as a big draw was basically over. The classic American superstar had crashed and burned because of his own reckless behavior.

Then in the early 1990s, 70s nostalgia brought everything from bell bottoms to the pet rock back from the abyss of the forgotten past. And what better symbol of that fun, frivolous decade than the thrill-seeker in the patriotic jumpsuit, Evel Knievel? Frail and fragile of health after years of abuse on and off the bike, Knievel would find a profitable niche selling his autograph to eager collectors trying to grab a piece of their glory days. Some may find that kind of life demeaning, but for a guy who used to charge $500 to jump over rattlesnakes and mountain lions, it was just Knievel's way of adapting to the times.

One adjustment he never made was his attitude. He remained as ornery as ever, cussing out reporters and fans whenever they crossed a line, real or imagined. He even feuded at times with his son Robbie, who has followed in his father's daredevil footsteps. Oh, and that multimillion dollar settlement he was ordered to pay Shelly Saltman, the PR man whose arm he broke in 1977? Knievel never paid him a dime.

[In fact, just days after Knievel's death, Saltman publicly stated that he planned to go after Knievel's estate for his money, which he estimated is now around $100 million due to compounded interest. But that's a story for another day.]

As Evel eked out a living on the past, the future that he laid the groundwork for was unfolding. Extreme sports went mainstream. Skateboarders, snowboarders and dirtbikers started risking their necks doing insane stunts, for a heckuva lot less than the $6 million Knievel earned for trying to clear Snake River Canyon in 1974. The guys on a TV show named "Jackass" risked life, limb and their dignity for the sake of a ratings point.

Get where I'm going here? Without Knievel, it's a good bet the X-Games wouldn't exist. That snowboarding would never become a medal sport in the Olympics. Guys like Tony Hawk wouldn't turn into crossover superstars, one-man cash cows known as the next generation's risk-taking idols. Because before Knievel, there was no one to put that crazy idea into kids' heads to make 'em say, 'hey, you know what? I think I can do that!'

See, I missed the point of Evel Knievel the first time around. It wasn't about making the jumps. Success had nothing to do with it. It was about having the stones to TRY it in the first place. And if he failed - WHEN he failed - to have the willpower to get back on the bike and try something even crazier. That's what Evel Knievel was about.

Now he's gone. And while everyone always says, 'there will never be another one like him'...it's very likely true in this case. Evel Knievel existed at the right time in the right country during the right decade. He was a superstar with crossover appeal. In today's fragmented media world, he would be relegated to a Saturday night showcase on ESPN2, just before bull riding. Not that you couldn't make a good living that way but it wouldn't be anywhere near the same as his 70s heyday.

Knievel's funeral will actually be a two-day event beginning Sunday. Fittingly, it will be a loud, spirited affair. A fireworks show will kick off the event, and will end with the funeral officiated by Rev. Robert Schuller at Butte Civic Center, a 10,000 seat arena. It's expected to be packed with people coming in from all parts to pay final respects to a deeply flawed, wholly original human being.

Viva Knievel, indeed.