Being a boy born in the 1970s, my three earliest heroes were The Lone Ranger, Batman, and Evel Knievel. But the amazing thing about Knievel was that he was real. Even though I could see reruns of Clayton Moore and Adam West dishing out kid-approved justice on TV, whenever Evel was on the screen, I knew that he was a real human being despite the comic-book leathers and the larger-than-life persona. He was a real man – for better or worse – and not an actor playing a fictional character.

However, as the ‘70s turned into the ‘80s, my Evel Knievel stunt bikes and action figures were replaced by TIE fighters, MOBATs, and Autobots. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought as to how and why this happened. Then, nearly forty years later, I decided to read Leigh Montville’s biography of the man, Evel: The High Flying Life of Evel Knievel, American Showman, Daredevil, and Legend. In those pages, my childhood hero was laid bare, warts and all; revealed as a petty criminal, a big-mouth hustler, a lecherous womanizer, and, at times, a mean-spirited drunk. But, by the time I reached the end, I had an even more profound understanding of the man as a human being, and I think I learned a little something about what it means to be a hero. Or a villain.

Like everyone who has ever lived, Knievel was a product of his times – just like those men whose statues are being taken down around our country at the moment. The late 1960s and early ‘70s were a time of moral ambiguity and material excess; a time when the growing tabloid and television media were making the Cult of Celebrity the national religion. Evel Knievel somehow became a member of that burgeoning American pantheon; even leading it at times like a modern-day Loki usurping the halls of an Asgardian Hollywood.

None of us are born knowing exactly who we are, able to define that person at every stage of our life’s development, no matter what. We are all shaped to a certain extent by the influences of our society and particular era in history, for good or for ill. It is only by the dent of our own immortal soul and character, the grace of God, and hopefully, the guidance of our loved ones, which enable us to become the best versions of ourselves. Maybe Robert Craig Knievel Jr. didn’t have the best support system to make that happen. Sadly, not everyone does.

Was Evel Knievel, in fact, a hero or a villain? I’m guessing Shelly Saltman would come down rather quickly on the villain side of this question, and for a very good reason. However, to Lou Mack, a fellow inmate of Knievel’s at the Los Angeles County Jail, he was more of a hero than to all us kids who ever sent his plastic effigies careening across kitchen floors. According to Montville, Mack has said, “He was a real … inspiration to me … To this day I say that him coming to jail probably was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Lou Mack turned his life around because of the time he spent talking with Knievel while in jail.

So this is my point, Bob “Evel” Knievel was a real human being, just like the rest of us, capable of grand heroics and petty villainy at any given moment on any given day. He just had a bigger stage upon which his moments played. But here’s the thing, despite the number of toys and tickets he sold, Knievel’s greatest heroic moment may just have been sharing a little time and some much needed advice while away from the spotlights and cameras. We can’t all attempt to jump the fountains at Caesar’s Palace on a motorcycle or a canyon in a homemade rocket, but we can all take the time to talk to someone who needs a little companionship and a sympathetic ear. We can all be that kind of hero; we can all be that kind of Evel.