They stood there by the side of the road watching huge anvil shaped clouds building just south of them. The Harley ticked in time while it began to cool.
"Do you think it's something in the fuel line?" she asked, eyeing the darkness that was approaching. "It seemed like it ran out of gas". Debbi's mood seemed as dark as the approaching storm.
"Nah, it's just some hidden bit of my Karma that's pickin' a really screwed up time to mess with us." Bob had had a few too many drinks and was in no mood for tackling a serious problem right at that moment. Cars were starting to drive by with windshield wipers still moving. "Thank Christ it's warm at least" Bob said as the chill wind in front of the massive storm started to move in and mock him.
"I thought I saw a station back about a mile" said Deb. Bob hadn't told her about the hose clamp he's found with a screw missing.
Hmmmm screw missing, he thought, just the right kind of analogy for this situation.
Suddenly an idea provoked a section of idle matter in Bob's warm gray mass into action. Hey! he thought, maybe I could use a small piece of wire! Yeah, like maybe a piece would just drop out of the desert sky and land comfortably close to them. Yeah, sure.........
Bob was steaming inside. He'd written a web page about magic motorcycle kits. It was a hit, but just because you write the stuff, doesn't mean you do it yourself. The kit he'd written about included 3 or 4 different size hose clamps, a small roll of duct tape, some stainless steel wire and some JB Weld, that miracle shit that Paul Harvey was always yapping about.
They weren't sure, but they thought they were hearing thunder, a lot of it. But it was too steady. This was a steady drone of thunder.
"Bob Look!" Debbi yelled as she hit him on the back. She was pointing at a wavy kind of mirage on the road to the south of them.
"Great, It's the Heathens" Just what we need right now, Debbi squeaked. She was right, the group they had drank next to in Bisbee at the old Grand Hotel Saloon was rolling toward them.
They had been fighting amongst themselves and had jostled Bob a bit and spilled his drink. The leathery old biker had laughed out load in Bob's face, but then, as if to clear the air, bought him a drink.
As they were thundering by, old leather face saw Bob and Debbi and motioned for the group to stop.
The sky continued to darken and the sound of crackling was becoming more prevalent. Thunder, the real kind, rolled and echoed in the surrounding mountains. "What's wrong with your ride brother?" asked the leathery iron mounted demon. After Bob had explained the problem, old leather face laughed and said, "hey bro, you need to be carrying one of these!"
He pulled a small leather satchel out of his saddlebag. "I heard about this from some loser who probably never rode his bike much, but he had a few good idears. One of my crew found him on the web and then we all started to carry this stuff. So whoever the loser is, he's doing you a big favor pard."
Bob kept his mouth shut and just smiled and thanked old leather face. "If you'll let my wife and me ride with you to Tombstone we'll buy you a drink for the favor." Getting on his bike, he cautioned Debbi not to mention the kit's author. She poked at him and grinned.