Fort Worth’s ‘Wheelie-ing Elvi’ riders — an homage to Elvis, Evel Knievel — call it quits
Bobby Ornelas will miss putting on a white jumpsuit, strapping on a wig and kickstarting a custom 1960s Batman-inspired Honda Z50K Mini Trail bike.
“It’s like 007, I’ve got a license to kill when I’m on that bike out there in costume,” Ornelas said. “It’s weird, I’ve heard people say, ‘I can’t do this if you can see me, if you know who I am’.”
For nearly a quarter century, this shy bike rider from Fort Worth led a motley crew of misfits dressed as Elvis and revving vintage motorcycles to perform their antics at parades, festivals or birthday parties. They called themselves “The World Famous Wheelie-ing Elvi.”
“It’s almost like watching a parent watch their kids open presents,” he said. “They had fun and that’s really why I stuck around so long, I wanted everybody to have their time having fun.”
Leader of Fort Worth’s ‘Wheelie-ing Elvi’ takes a bow
In a mid-January Facebook post, the 60-year-old Ornelas announced it was time for the “Wheelie-ing Elvi” to take a bow. He was retiring as leader of this “band of misfits.” The run of the crowd-pleasing group on two wheels had run out of gas. For now.
In their heyday, they were everywhere — popping wheelies at parades all over North Texas — building a loyal fan base that sustained them for years.
The motor heads even managed to make it into a Blue Bell ice cream commercial released several years ago.
Then life intervened. Members moved on. Children were born. And people just got older. Ornelas tried to hold onto the handlebars as long as he could, but his show needed riders.
When a member texted him last October to say he couldn’t make a Halloween event, he knew it was time to call it quits. The group was running on fumes, so Ornelas decided that it was a good time to turn off the engine.
While this chapter of the “Wheelie-ing Elvi” is closing, Ornelas isn’t exactly sliding the barn doors shut. His heart is telling him there’s more to come, he said. Where else can people get a mix of Elvis and Evel Knievel?
“It’s too much fun for anybody not to want to do it,” Ornelas said. “It had to take a break and I had to take a break.”
Fort Worth’s connection to ‘The Wheelie-ing Elvi’
It all started with a pair of friends who were crazy about motorbikes.
Fort Worth natives Chris Watson and Craig Knight, started the group mainly as a means to ride their bikes. The hard tail style of mini bikes were only made by Honda between 1968-1971, before a soft tail style was added later to help absorb shock while riding.
The duo grew up on motorbikes and a steady diet of Evel Knievel, the death-defying stuntman who inspired a generation to fall in love with anything on two wheels. They rode their minibikes around south side Fort Worth even if their rides weren’t exactly street legal.
So, to circumvent the uncomfortable reality of the law, they found a venue willing to forgive their legal trespasses.
In 1995, the duo decided to enter into the local Westcliff Neighborhood Association Fourth of July parade — Watson donning a sombrero and Knight wearing a blonde Marilyn Monroe wig. And thus, the seed for the group was planted.
“The crowd really gets into it, women are screaming at you, ‘Take my panties!’,” Watson said. “There’s something intoxicating about that.”
They were turning into rock stars.
After a successful trial run, the duo decided to jazz things up for the 1996 parade. The hat and wig were ditched for something that stands out just a little bit more: Elvis-inspired jumpsuits.
Renting Elvis outfits from Harris Costumes in Fort Worth gave their wardrobe a stylistic makeover. It also gave birth to the moniker “Wheelie-ing Elvi.”
Riders flocked to the group — joining in the fun.
Ornelas was one of the riders impressed by the group’s mission of fun and motorcycles. That was 24 years ago.
The group became a staple at local events such as the Fort Worth Parade of Lights and Fourth of July festivities — getting roughly 20 invitations a year to perform.
“I’ve been working with the parade close to 20 years and the ‘Elvi’ have always been a part of the event and for us, they were a showpiece,” said Jay Downie, events director for Downtown Fort Worth, Inc. “They were always great.”
Around 2001, Watson and Knight left the group, leaving Ornelas and Steve Utter to mind the group’s performances.
Four years later Utter also left. Ornelas was now alone in leading the “Wheelie-ing Elvi.” In his telling, he was fine with the changes because he had developed a real passion for what they were doing. Besides, he said he had formed a strong bond with his “band of misfits.”
He even decided to embellish the group’s name.
“Even though we weren’t world famous yet I changed it to ‘The World Famous Wheelie-ing Elvi’ because I knew we were going to be world famous by the time we were done,” he said. “Why not shoot for as high as I could.”
‘World Famous’ and rubbing elbows with Ross Perot
Some years were busier than others and — for a period — it felt like the group was riding in something every weekend, Ornelas said. Ornelas himself has rode in over 500 events in over 20 years of leading the group, he said.
Most of the events over the years were repeats such as the Fort Worth Parade of Light and Fourth of July parades, but other events at the Texas Motor Speedway kept the group busy. “The Wheelie-ing Elvi” made sure to make the 100-year anniversary celebration of the West 7th Street bridge in 2013, Ornelas said.
A favorite of Ornelas’ was a birthday celebration for Dallas businessman and former presidential candidate, Ross Perot.
“We came riding into the hotel up to the top floor, just blowing out everything,” Ornelas said. “Guys would come on later to the group and would say, ‘Y’all rode through an elevator?,’ and I said, ‘Yeah, we did that’.”
At its peak, there were about 45 people in the group, and, on average, 20 to 30 riders participated in each event throughout the year.
Scott Wilson was at an Arlington parade with his family when he saw something peculiar, a bunch of grown men riding around on minibikes in Elvis costumes. Wilson, having only ridden minibikes as a child, knew he had to track down who these guys were.
He chased down Ornelas at the parade, who said they were looking for members and that was that. Wilson met the group in July 2009 and by that September he was riding as one of the “Wheelie-ing Elvi” in the State Fair of Texas parade.
For Wilson it was a match made in heaven to be able to ride the bike and meet guys he will always call friends. Plus, there are other perks to the job.
“My son was little at the time and his teacher says, ‘Oh, what is it your dad does? And he goes, he’s Elvis’,” Wilson said. “Then [my wife] explained and the teacher said, ‘Oh my god, I love those guys’.”
“The World Famous Wheelie-ing Elvi” has had a good long ride
Over a decade and a half later, members of the group began falling away — raising families, age and a raging worldwide pandemic. COVID-19 influenced many of the riders’ decision to quit as they fought for their health and to keep their jobs.
When Ornelas received a text in late 2022 from a group member about missing a scheduled gig, he knew it was time.
“The Wheelie-ing Elvi” has had a good long ride. Ornelas counts his riders as brothers. He didn’t want to push or force anyone to show up. He would do anything for his guys. He knew they would do anything for him.
“When we’re together, we’re a very close group,” he said. “I think that’s through bonding time, getting to know each other in the cold and the heat, before and after.”
Never count a “Wheelie-ing Elvi” out
Do not count this group out just yet. Ornelas said he has already heard from a few members about possibly taking over the group — getting the crew road-ready once again.
If that happens, Ornelas said he will be first in line with his bike and his jumpsuit. There’s something about putting on the Elvis getup. Ornelas could only describe the feeling as being like Batman with a mix of James Bond.
When the Elvis costume is on, he explained, he’s a different person who has to give all he’s got. But when it’s off, he reverts back to his normal self. Kind of like the fictional Bruce Wayne. In the end, it’s all about giving people a good show, he said.
“I loved watching them more than they know,” Ornelas said. “Sometimes I would camp my bike on the side for a few seconds and I just watched the guys playing out there in the streets, they were having a blast.”
