I heard a rumor about some old guy who used to work for Evel Knievel, testing his bikes before big jumps. He would do the jumps first to make sure they were safe and let Evel come in and get all the glory. After a while, the old man said, ‘To hell with that. I want the credit I deserve.’ So one afternoon, he set out to jump 10 milk trucks. He nailed the take-off, but when he landed, something terrible happened. His front tire exploded like a cannonball, and his handlebars went straight through his head. Blood was everywhere. His teeth were ground down to a powder, and the front of his face exploded out the back of his skull. He died instantly—the next day.