Yes, It's true, they are no more. The famous Over The Hill Gang took down their shingle yesterday after gathering for a farewell ride & brunch. Bob was leaving them for a new job with Intel in Hillsboro, Oregon.
We decided to meet at our usual place, the I20 exit 5 Shell station. I arrived early as I always do when a second member "drives" up in his Toyota minivan and asks that we pick him up after we hit the road for our tour of the day. We had plenty of time so I said why not. That's how it began!
Two more riders pulled in, one after the other, more or less on time. I passed on the message about our 4th member. Grumbling ensued! We discussed the planned ride and took off looking for Marion.
By the time we located him we new we were in trouble. His borrowed Harley Heritage was parked off the shoulder and there he was "wandering in the woods". It seems, while waiting for us, he had to relieve himself so he wandered into the woods to find a suitable tree. When he returned to his bike he noticed he was missing his ignition key from his son's Harley. Panic ensued followed by a 45 minute search through the field & woods. No Key.
That's where we came in. We helped him look for a while then pointed out he didn't need the key on a Harley to start the bike. We abandoned the search & headed on our appointed route.
Five miles down the road we pull into a gas station to fuel up. Marion's bike takes premium. There were plastic bags on the premium handles on each pump. We decide to head the 10 miles to the next station. We made it one. Marion coasted to the shoulder of our country road devoid of petrol. Why hadn't he filled up before we met up with him? He had 45 minutes. We had to flag down a farmer with an old pickup truck & get him to fetch his gas can and drive to the nearest station for a few ounces of gas, drained from the hoses of each pump with those plastic bags on them. We offered money to the ol guy & he politely refused saying he was retired & this was the most excitement He had in a month.
Onward we rode to the restaurant, known as Gooney Bird's, where the wife of one of our gang was manager. We ordered our meals, ate, laughed about the day's event while recalling previous rides and prior incidents. We made light of Marion's lack of wisdom & planning.
The return ride was sad as each member peeled off to go his own way, knowing, that the group would never be together again. I'll remember the hand raised in a final farewell as my turn came. The Over The Hill Gang was...............well...................over the hill.