In the old days they, the promoters, wanted more and more from me. They wanted me to jump or spill my blood and break my bones. Every time they wanted me to jump further, and further, and further. Hell, they thought my bike had wings.

Anybody can jump a motorcycle. The trouble begins when you try to land it

I don't have any problems in life, just situations.

I created Evel Knievel, and then he sort of got away from me.

I know that I'm very lucky to be alive. For 35 or 40 years I've spilt my blood and broke my bones and spent years in hospitals.

I've been in a treatment center for drinkin'. I stayed for two days, then escaped.

I think I coulda landed on a dime. I really do.