Bubba's last ride.

Gary B. was a very dear friend to all us Oldfarts and many more people in many places. Better known as “Bubba”, he was a native-born Texan and had a smile as wide as the state. He also had the grace and talent of many that come from the South -- "The art of telling a story" -- along with a booming voice like Conway Twitty and a line of bull so smooth and thick you couldn’t cut it with a chainsaw. This dog could hunt and he was way ahead of the big dogs.

"Hello Darlin’ you sweet thing, how you doing?" The girls would just melt. He was a very attentive admirer and would shower the gals with attention such as ironed sheets with baby powder sprinkled lightly on them, a single rose, and a special chocolate mint placed on their pillow. Well, let me tell you people, it worked.

Once you heard him speak you would recognize his voice again, even if you had only heard and not seen him. One of our bunch, Griff, and his wife Ellen, were visiting a daughter in the hospital a few years back. When Ellen met Bubba some time later and he greeted her with Hello Darlin’ she was intrigued and asked him if he had been in the hospital at such and such a date and he replied, "Yes I was, why?" She told him about hearing his voice there while visiting her daughter, never expecting to hear it again. As it turned out she would not only hear it much more, but also come to know him and love him as Griff’s riding partner.



Gary died last winter, but not before he defied the prediction by his doctor: "You have cancer of the urinary tract and there isn’t anything we can do. Go home and get your affairs in order as you have a short time to live.” That was over 11 years ago.

As he left the doctor’s office, he stopped, turned around and asked, "Isn’t there anything you can do for me?" The doctor said, "No. Well, maybe, I’m not sure. There is this new experimental drug, not approved, but you might give it a try." This drug was made from a female hormone and it helped Gary fight his cancer for 11 more years. The drug, along with strong pain relief medications, made it possible for him to continue to ride his many motorcycles, travel, and camp out with his friends and family.

During the final months of his battle, he was self-administering morphine to control the pain, but it was a fine line: over medicating would put you in a stupor that ruled out riding; not quite enough would leave you in intense pain. Bubba seldom complained but you knew he was in pain when you watched him shift his body in all kinds of contortions to try and find a comfortable position in which to ride.



Gary had many hats he wore and activities he pursued: active participation in the Polka Dots Racing motorcycle club, private investigator, veteran of more than one military service, spelunker (or caver), and a novice historian that would give us blow-by-blow descriptions of our surroundings over his CB radio as he led us on some of the best rides in the state. Charlie and Tricky Dick have a great knowledge of the roads like Bubba, but not the history he could recite.

He was born in Texas, traveled all over in the military and found paradise in California. It is hard for people that haven’t been exposed to what we take for granted here in northern California to understand why we love this place so much. But Bubba knew. He said before he died that his place in the town of Fair Oaks was all the home he ever wanted.

It has just been a few months since he left us and his birthday just passed so a few of us Oldfarts had a gathering to remember Bubba and share our favorite stories about him. It was a good time, reminiscing about our old friend.

We miss you buddy and this story is in memory of you.