"When I was about 7 years old in the '70s, I was at the airport with my mom and her boyfriend and a friend of mine — my mom's boyfriend told us that Evel Knievel was in one of the lounges. He was sitting in a back corner, drinking a glass of some kind of booze, and engulfed in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

My friend and I approached him excitedly, and after he autographed some napkins, he looked at us and said, 'Before I give you these, I'm going to teach you something.' My friend and I looked at each other totally starstruck, and grinned like idiots. Evel proceeded to tap both of us on the arm and asked, 'Does that hurt?' and we both shook our heads no — then he poked us lightly on the chest and asked, 'Does that hurt?' and again, we both said no. Then he made fists out of both of his hands with the middle knuckles sticking out, and brought them down sharply and simultaneously onto both of our heads. 'Does that hurt?' he asked, and neither of us could answer — I was holding back tears from the pain. He waited a few seconds and said, 'That's why you wear a safety helmet,' and then handed us the napkins."