
LAS VEGAS STRIP
Omnia× Caesars Palace
On May 17, 2026, Caesars Palace turned 60, Omnia Dayclub opened its doors, and the Strip turned electric.
Sixty years after Evel Knievel crashed his bike at these fountains, Colby Raha rolled back to the same stretch of Strip — not to clear the water, but to climb above it. Off a quarterpipe beside the fountains, in an Evel-style stars-and-stripes suit and 30-mph gusts, he threw a 94-foot QuarterPipe high air: the world's highest motorcycle jump, on the exact ground where the Vegas-daredevil legend was born.

The Setup
The occasion had weight stacked on weight. Caesars Palace was marking its 60th anniversary, six decades of being the address where Las Vegas goes to make a scene. On the same night, Omnia unveiled its new Dayclub and Skybar — a grand opening for a room built to look down on the Strip rather than up at it. Two milestones, one skyline, and a demand for a moment big enough to carry both.


Record Breakers Co. reached for the single image every American daredevil shares as common inheritance. In 1967, Evel Knievel lined up in front of these very fountains and sent his motorcycle over them — a jump that ended hard and became legend precisely because he dared it at all. That leap is baked into the mythology of this exact patch of pavement. You do not honor it with a plaque. You honor it by pointing a bike at the same water and twisting the throttle.

QuarterPipe High Air World Record
The Moment
Enter Colby Raha, zipped into a stars-and-stripes suit cut straight from the Knievel playbook — white leather, bold stripes, the flag worn like armor. It was homage you could read from the cheap seats, a costume that told the crowd exactly which ghost was riding shotgun before Raha ever hit the gas. The ramp rose over the Caesars fountains, the neon did its work, and the Strip went quiet in the way only a place this loud can.


Then the run. Raha attacked the QuarterPipe, traded horizontal speed for vertical violence, and rode the transition straight up into the desert night. This was not a jump measured in distance across the ground — it was High Air, a bid for altitude, the machine and the man clawing for the top of the sky above the water. At the apex he hung there for the half-second that separates athletes from acrobats, the fountains glittering far below the wheels.
The number came back at 94 feet. A QuarterPipe High Air world record, set at the fountains where the whole idea of the Vegas daredevil was born. Ninety-four feet is not a figure you casually process; it is a ten-story building of vertical nerve, executed live, over water, in front of a city that has seen every trick in the book and still gasped. Raha came down, and the record stayed up.


The Legacy
What makes the night land is the arithmetic of respect. Knievel’s 1967 attempt over these fountains is one of the founding parables of action sports — the crash as famous as any clean landing, the willingness to try immortalized long after the injuries healed. Raha did not imitate it; he completed a sentence started nearly sixty years earlier, in the same colors, on the same ground, and this time the number went in the books clean. The suit was the salute. The 94 feet was the reply.
That is the whole idea behind a Record Breakers Co. event, and behind Caesars Palace itself: some places are built to host history, and some nights are built to make it. The 60th anniversary got its headline. Omnia’s Dayclub and Skybar got an opening no ribbon-cutting could match. And the Strip got a new high-water mark — literally measured above the water — for what a single run at the right ramp can do. Colby Raha arrived as a rider paying tribute and left as a world-record holder, the flag still on his back, the fountains still running, the legend now carrying two names instead of one. Every event goes down in history. This one went up first.


I'm not done. I'm going to go for the biggest, farthest jump of all time.
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