Running Scared  I'm with two men, one of whom has a motorcycle. The other man and I ride on the motorcycle behind the driver. At first I ride on the far back, while the other man rides in between the driver and I. We're near or in the Railroad Company land, east of where Home Avenue extends northward from 3rd Street, and north of 3rd Street, in Oak Valley. There area is sandy dry dirt. The driver has double-crossed us. He tries to befriend us, to reconcile our differences. We get back on the motorcycle, I sit in the middle of the two men. We go south on Home Avenue. We're going to my home. We go past my house. A police officer appears behind us. The driver leaps off the motorcycle at the sight of the police car, and runs in a southeast direction, towards Roman's house, trying to evade the officer. I grab the handlebars of the motorcycle. The officer pursues the fleeing man. I think that I'm free from any inquiry of the officer. I wander over towards Next Avenue, going by Smith's garage, back near Mrs. Shelly's garage. I realize I'm going the wrong way: I could be going away from the officer, going northwest towards my home. I have a vehicle with me that seems to be a four-wheeler. I hear a vehicle speeding north, towards me, in the alley. I know it's the police car. I leave my vehicle and quickly dive forward into the long (one to two feet) grass in front of me, hoping that the police car will speed by and not see me; that I will be partially obscured by the white garage in front of me. As I land in the grass the police car comes to a screeching halt to my immediate left. I look, feebly. This deft officer has the fleeing man in his squad car. The officer gives me instructions as I lie on the ground on my stomach. He says to tap my knee and then my toe on the ground. It seems almost like a dance. I don't understand why he wants me to do this, and I question it. I don't think I've done anything wrong, but it seems that I have.