Carol passed the pipe to the back seat again! I took a hit and passed it on to Rob. If I had to recall the rest of the people in the van that night I'd have to go with: Karen, Jim, Stephen, Debbie, Nancy, and of course Ralph.

It was gettig near sunset and we had just pulled up to the stop sign at Griggstown Road and River Road. As we pulled onto River Road headed towards Griggstown, a car headed in the opposite direction slowed and pulled up next to us, motioning Ralph to stop and roll down his window. That's when it all began.

I'm sure you've heard the story that he beat up ten state troupers. At the time all I new was that a car had pulled along side us and the driver was yelling something at Ralph. Ralph yelled something back and then we took off, gunning the motor of the V.W. as we crossed the river bridge headed towards Griggstown and the Canal Road.

WE soon learned from Ralph that it was Dickie B. in the other car.

That was all of the information Ralph was willing to share with us at the time but I sensed that he was uneasy about the whole situation.

As we approached the Griggstown Canal I noticed that Dickie had turned his car around and was now following us. Everyone else in the van noticed too.

We made a right turn at the old Eddie Turnquist Store onto Canal Road.

Ralph started winding out the transmission. You know the way he used to do it like he was purposely trying to blow up the engine. The high screeching wine seemed to go on and on until he finally pushed in the clutch and went to the next gear. We started to go fast.

As you know, Canal Road is not a very forgiving road with many of the trees only inches from your car door and the canal's murky water only a few feet away at places.

The trees started wizzing by. The last rays of the sun reflected off the water in the canal and Dickie B. was on our ass.

To me, this seemed like some welcome excitement compared to driving around aimlessly. My opinion of the situation changed quickly however, when a couple of minutes later Ralph yelled," he's got a gun, everyone get down on the floor."

Everyone got on the floor of the van except Ralph and Carol who were in the front seat and Rob who was sqatting behind Carol's seat ready to spring into action if the opportunity arose.

We were half-way between Griggstown and Hell now doing about eighty-miles-per hour and the devil was a car's length behind us in a '72 Pontiac.

We reached Route 518 and made a right turn. Then we crossed back over the river and kept going until we reached Route 206. There we made a right turn and continued on down past Montgomery Shopping Center until we reached River Road.

It was dark now: cause the sun had set. And it being early Summer it must have been around 9 PM.

Dickie B. was still behind us as we turned onto River Road. Ralph wound out the gears of the V.W. unmercifully and we learched forward into the night. We picked up speed quickly but it was now apparent that the van was not fast enough to out-run the Pontiac.

Dickie pulled up next to us.

I raised myself up from the floor of the van just high enough to see more clearly what was going on. I could see Dickie making threatening gestures at us and I could see a person in the seat next to him. Mrs. Bush I guess.

She sat with her hands clenched in her lap looking straight ahead. Her face was drawn and wan. She was probably going over her marriage vows in her head trying to recall if accompaning your husband on arbitrary mass murder of hippies was included.

Unwilling to pass us, and unable to run us off the road, the Pontiac dropped back behind the V.W. before we reached the "S" turns. We continued on down River Road.

There didn't seem to be much traffic that night. As a matter of fact I can't remember any. Maybe the denizens of Belle Mead were warned by some higher being that Dickie was on the prowl that night and were all huddled at Montgomery High School until it was safe to go out again.

We made a left on Dead Tree Road and headed towards the Mill Pond.

As we passes Slick's house I could see a light in thee upstairs window. Obviously Tom had decided he would be safer that night at home rather than with the others at the highschool.

We crossed the Millpond Bridge and swung left onto Bridgepoint Road, and a half mile later took a left into a housing developement.

We emerged from the housing developement unscathed a few minutes later-- still unable to shake off our persuer.

We continued down Bridgepoint Road until we reached Route 206. We took the turn from Bridgepoint Road onto 206 on two wheels doing about sixty-miles-per hour and then immediately turned back onto River Road. I don't know how we accomplished this without turning the van over.

We retraced our path down River Road, left onto DeadTree, across the Millpond; and back onto Bridgepoint Road. And then about a mile down Bridgepoint headed towards Route 206, the Pontiac passed us.

The next thing I can recall was going backwards on Route 206 at fifty-miles per hour. Dickie was right behind us except that he was travelling forward.

By the time we reached Montgomery Shopping Center Ralph had turned the van around and we continued South until we reached the Princeton Police Station. We pulled up to the front door and the van came to rest. Ralph immediately began beeping his horn.

Dickie pulled in behind us a few seconds later. As soon as his car had stopped he jumped out and ran over to where we were parked. He started banging his fists on the wind-shield and yelling obsenities at us.

This the first time that I could really get a good look at him. He was big. He reminded me of a Buffulo except without the horns. His shaggy mane had been replaced with a crew-cut and Levis and a leather jacket covered his skin instead of prairie dust. The head was joined to the torso with a thick muscular neck and his arms and legs were as big as tree trunks.

Dickie continued banging on the windshield and Ralph continued blowing the horn.

The cops were unwilling to leave the safety of the police station and come outside. I could see one of our boys in blue inside the police staion trying to radio for more help.

Meanwhile inside the van Rob had grabbed a tire-iron and the rest of us were looking around for weapons we could use to defend ourselves, or maybe mount an offensive counter-strike. After all, there were nine of us and only one of him.

Fortunately we were spared making rash decisions because two police cars pulled into the lot and from hence emerged four of Princeton's finest ready to do battle with the bohemeth. I figured one shot between the eyes and about one hundred more rounds to the body to be absolutely shure he was dead would be appropriate. Instead the cops walked up to Dickie and said: 'What's going on.' Dick said,'This ass-hole,' pointing to Ralph,'drove through my neighborhood at eighty-miles-per hour last week, he could have killed one of my kids.'

The cops motioned for us to get out of the van. We reluctantly obliged them.

They searched the van and found the pipe that Carol had stashed under the seat. 'What's this,' said one of the cops. We all exhibited signs of severe memory loss. 'Well,' said the cop,' I think I'm going to forget that I ever saw this pipe and I'm going to forget Dick here had a few to many beers. I want all of you to go home.' Dazed and confused we all piled into the van and went home.

The End