Jim Stingl | Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Rick Wood, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

There's a good reason why Rob Summerbell is the world's only Wacky Wheeler.

He made up the crazy act. There was no such thing until he found a rusty old 10-foot-tall cable reel in a junkyard near his Madison home and learned to ride it.

Rob pedaled that wheel to silly stardom in many parades and fairs in Wisconsin and a dozen other states, dazzling and amusing and sometimes frightening audiences with his antics.

"Sometimes people say, 'Hey, he's like a gerbil.' And I say, 'I am a hamster!' I tell them I'm insulted by being called a gerbil," he jokes.

Rick Wood/Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

It's an apt comparison. This human hamster makes the wheel spin around and around, sometimes stepping from bar to bar on the inside, and sometimes rambling bravely over the top or even standing up there triumphantly in his loud costume, golden boots, plastic ears and zany glasses.

Rob makes it look easy, though still quite insane. What you don't see is the wear and tear on his aging knees. Or on his family life when every weekend in the summer finds him loading the wheel on a trailer and heading off to one or more towns to perform.

{{props.notification}} {{props.tag}} {{props.expression}} {{props.linkSubscribe.text}} {{#modules.acquisition.inline}}{{/modules.acquisition.inline}} ... Our reporting. Your stories. Get unlimited digital access to exclusive content. Subscribe Now

So Melvin the Wacky Wheeler — that's his stage name — is pulling over to the side. His final three performances are Saturday at Christmas parades in Elkhorn (1:30 p.m.), New Berlin (3 p.m.) and Port Washington (6 p.m.).

"It's bittersweet. My body is saying it's time to stop. I said I was going to quit when I'm 50, and I'm 56. So it's been about six years of contemplating stopping. I've done what I'm going to do with it, and it just feels like I want to go out on a high note and I want to be in one piece. Because it is dangerous. Most people wouldn't do it at any age," Rob told me during an interview at his south side Madison home, the one with a giant wheel in the driveway.

As a kid growing up in the Chicago suburbs, Rob traded in high school gymnastics for skateboarding. His parents let him build a 40-foot halfpipe in the backyard, which their insurance company called "an attractive nuisance."

After studying media production at UW-Oshkosh, he moved around the country for a while before settling in Madison. A friend asked him to make a video about her trapeze troupe, but he decided he would rather perform with the group, which he did for 11 years.

Then he and his significant other, Laura Zirngible, managed a dozen stilt walkers as Jolly Giants Entertainment. They made the stilts and costumes and taught friends the unusual skill. Rob included a photo of the wheel in his promotional materials and parades started asking for it.

That was 18 years ago, and he's been the Wacky Wheeler ever since, though he's a carpenter on the side. His original inspiration for the act came after he met a guy backstage at Cirque du Soleil who performed on a smaller so-called German wheel.

View | 8 Photos

Rob Summerbell is The Wacky Wheeler

Rob was out walking his dog when he spotted a row of cable reels in the junkyard. He asked if he could buy one and they said he could have it free. A couple of paint jobs later, that's still the wheel he uses.

It's a guesstimate, but Rob thinks he's done 1,200 performances on the wheel, or about 70 a year, in all kinds of weather and on some alarmingly hilly or potholed streets.

The season begins with St. Patrick's Day in the spring, then parades and fairs and festivals all summer, and finishing with holiday parades. One Fourth of July, he was in seven parades, a personal record.

That's the same day he rolled the 4-foot-wide wheel over 21 screaming girls lying head to toes in the Whitefish Bay street. That's also a record, though it's a popular trick he includes in most appearances. He also does this thing where he lets the wheel roll away by itself while he appears not to notice as he talks to paradegoers.

The Wheeler will be totally missed at the Whitefish Bay July 4th parade, said co-chair Chuck Taft.

"He is the daredevil circus performer going down Silver Spring Avenue," Taft said. "It's a guy who came up with something completely fascinating, completely jaw-dropping."

I've seen Melvin the Wacky Wheeler many times at parades in Wauwatosa and Madison and at the Wisconsin State Fair. Watching the 350-pound steel wheel careen past crowds of people always made me wonder how many folks he accidentally bumps or bruises.

None, he said, though he bloodied himself a couple times. A loud whistle that he blows helps clear the way. And he finishes up at fairs before the drunks come out.

Rick Wood/Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

He understands the appeal of perceived danger for some viewers. A guy with a rubber chicken on his belt doesn't exactly inspire confidence in people.

"There's an element of, gee, when is that going to go terribly wrong?" he said. "I consider my number one job when I'm out performing to keep everyone safe. And if they happen to be entertained, that's good, too."

While others throw candy to the crowds at parades, Rob has always tossed out super balls. Over the years, his daughter, Lilah, son, Sean, close friend Dave Marsek and other sidekicks have ridden alongside the wheel on a bike to keep him company.

It won't be easy to park his rolling dance partner for good after Saturday. He's not sure what will become of it, or if someone else will take over the act.

"If I could do it forever, I would," he said. "Once I'm on the wheel, it's just pure adrenaline and fun."

But this is absolutely, positively the end, right?

"Then I can do that Rolling Stones comeback in five years."