Last night a friend went to a neighboring town to pick up a Buell Blast for his wife. They bought the bike used from a private party. It turns out that on the way home he needed to add some oil to the thing. Already sounding like a Harley story huh? They got the oil handled and hit the highway. She was following him until they got to our respective city. He had told her when they were putting the oil in to take the lead here in town so they could come to my house to show me the bike. Well, to make a short story longer, she called us as she was driving the car to cancel coming over since it was so late. When she got done with the phone call she didn't see him in her rear- view mirror anymore. She pulled over to the shoulder of the Interstate and waited for him. Half an hour later, no hubby on a Blast having a Blast! So she drives up and down the Interstate looking for him. No sight of him. She goes home and waits for him. No phone call, no hubby and lots of worry start to set in. She called us wondering if Lost Husband Numero Uno was here. He didn't really know how to get to our house, but she thought he might have tried to find our house. Of course no Lost Hubby here. Since it was Midnight I decided to call the local hospitals for her and check if they had a MVA matching his description/name. No luck. She then gets back on the highway to go look for him. I leave my house to also search the highway. The local Highway Patrol was called but they wouldn't do anything unless it was a reported accident. As I'm about to enter the highway she calls me on my cellphone telling me he just called her cell and is at home. It turns out that he ran out of gas and had to push the bike 1.5 miles to a gas station off the highway. I called him at home and chewed his butt for making me miss sleep. I told him to get a dad-gummed cell phone and carry it when he is riding. Now I have to wait until Sunday to see the new to them Buell he bought for her.