Welcome to the Nov. 2, 2006 Newsletter
From the President, Matt Slick
Things are going well
Nov. 1, 1974
The driver grabbed Dave by his shirt and started screaming that we almost killed him. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He then said he was going to kill us both. Since he was only a few feet away from me, I turned my bike around to head down the hill to a safe place so that I could go into traffic and stop cars to get help. At that time I weighed about 100 pounds and was no match for anyone. Nevertheless, in my panic I realized I had left my friend behind so I hit my brakes and was going to get off my bike and run back to Dave and help him. I looked behind me. Dave had broken free and was running across the Boulevard to safety. The man was getting in his van.
I don't think I've ever ridden my bike quite that fast before or since. I was standing on the pedals, leaning forward, rocking the bike back and forth as I muscled it downward off the narrow bridge. A quick glance let me know that he was closing in. Just in time I leaned to the right. At the bottom of the bridge was an entrance to a small trailer park. With as much speed and skill as I could muster, I leaned into the curve, cutting through the wind, trying to increase the distance between us. I heard the sound of tires skidding on the pavement behind me as he followed into the park.
Inside the trailer park there was very little room to maneuver. Another glance and I could see he was gaining on me. The grill of the van was ominously threatening to devour both me and my bike. I headed for a small brick divider and with the skill of an Olympian, jumped off my bike and continued my forward motion on foot. The bike kept going and I heard the rattling metal as it crashed to the ground.
I remember looking around trying to find an escape route, listening to the sound of the engine roaring behind me and hearing the rhythmic crunch of gravel underneath my shoes. I ran is fast as I could and darted to the left. There were more grinding sounds as the gravel was shoved under the van's halting tires. The door slammed and he was now on foot. I was breathing as hard as I could, forcing myself to stay ahead of him.
Frantically, I ran as fast as I could, dodging and darting. I was small in stature. He was much larger and much faster. My only defense was in being light. It allowed me to change direction quickly and frequently and with that I was able to put distance between us. But it was very difficult to do. Fatigue was robbing me of my stamina, removing my ability to stay safe. It was obvious that in a few minutes I would not be able to keep my distance. I had to think fast. So, I decided to take a chance and run across the Boulevard, through traffic, to a parking lot full of cars next to a large building. Hopefully, there would be people around.
Just before I bolted, I felt his foot brush against my shoe. Later I would find out that it was torn but had somehow managed to stay on. Fortunately for me, the Boulevard had a break in the traffic and I was able to dart across quickly and easily. It didn't take much to put cars between us in the parking lot and by doing that I could stop and begin to catch my breath. I remember him glaring at me and threatening me again. Each time he would move to one side I would move the opposite direction, keeping the cars between us. My breathing was labored, rapid, and deep. Then he bolted. It was obvious that he was determined to get me and that this cat and mouse game would not last. I dodged around another vehicle and spotted an open door in the building. I knew I was about to collapse from exhaustion so my only choice was to run through the door and hope that there were people inside that might save me from this madman.
It took about half a minute more of dodging and sprinting before I gained a clear path to the entrance. So, with all the strength I had left, I sprinted. It's amazing how fast my eyes adjusted to the darkness as I ran down what was a narrow room. To my right was a bar with a bartender behind it. Two patrons were sipping on drinks - at 7:15 in the morning. There was no exit. I ran to the far wall and stopped. There are was a Juke box to my right. I turned around with my back to the wall. Only a few feet away I could see a large man sitting on a stool, lifting a drink to his mouth. He glanced at me and then returned to his business. At the far end of the bar my enemy entered. His dark silhouette stood out against the white background of the door. He began to walk towards me. I was cornered. With nowhere to go and with no strength to fight, I collapsed onto the floor and managed a feeble appeal to the man near me. "This guy is trying to kill me. Help me."
The silhouette kept approaching. All I could do was wait for the inevitable beating, or whatever it was that was going to happen. Then, just before he got to me the large drinking man stood up, stood between us, looked at my assailant and said, "There will be no fights in here." For a long moment, my aggressor weighed his options. The big man stood his ground and I sat on mine. Then, with labored breath, he pointed his finger at me and said, "Wait till you get outside." He backed away, turned, and disappeared out the door. The large man went back to his drink and ignored me.
Little did I know that my friend Dave was in another part of the same building, in a different business, and had already called the police. I waited to come out of the bar for 20 minutes. After I finally got the courage to exit, I found that the police had just gotten there and the blue van was gone. Dave was filling them in and said that he thought I had been abducted. Needless to say he was glad to see me. My bike was mangled, unusable. But I didn't care.
We went to the police station and filed a report. We gave them a description as best we could and to this day we have never found out who it was or why this irrational idiot behaved the way he did. So, each November 1 I think of my friend and sometimes we call each other and reminisce.