Recorded on the RCA record label, and released in October of 1978, "Don't You Think This Outlaw Bit's Done Got Out Of Hand" was the second Single from Waylon Jennings' I've Always Been Crazy album.

Written by Waylon Jennings, "Don't You Think This Outlaw Bit's Done Got Out Of Hand" peaked at the Number 5 position on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart.

A portion of the lyrics of "Don't You Think This Outlaw Bit's Done Got Out Of Hand" include:

"I'm for law and order the way it should be
This song's about the night they spent protecting you from me
Someone called me an outlaw in some old magazine
New York City sent a posse like I ain't never seen"

I did not consider myself to be an outlaw by any stretch of the imagination. But I sure felt this police chase got way out of hand.



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AS I BOUNDED DOWN THE ALLEY IN LEAPING STRIDES THAT SPRUNG MY STEPS WITH EACH IMPACT, I DID NOT GALLOP, I DID NOT HURTLE, AND I DID NOT DALLY. My only thought was escape, not that the world speed record at that time was six-hundred-and-thirty miles an hour. This achievement had been established by the rocket-powered Blue Flame vehicle driven by the motorsport driver Gary Gabelich at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah. If Davidson County's finest wanted me, I proposed to try to shatter that accomplishment on foot. I would attempt anything to avoid being forcefully rejoined with Hermitage Hall.

Just shy of a full blown panic attack, I could not cram enough oxygen through my nose and mouth to keep my breathing from becoming laborious. The harder I sprinted the higher the number of breaths it seemed I swallowed. The intense active breathing of hyperpnea from exertion began to settle in. The deeper breaths expanding my lungs.

I cannonballed down the avenue for six city blocks like a flame about three feet high scorched my tiny hind end and my blond head was about to catch. My lungs ignited as air grew harder to inhale. I snuck a glance back over my right shoulder and saw the uniform stayed close behind me. Desperate to avoid capture, I urgently summoned my strength, picked up my pace, and tromped heavy foot pressure on the pavement beneath my path.

I'd never attempted to outrun the police before. Passage away from this locality was what I vehemently needed. Being nailed, jailed, collected up and sent on my way did not fascinate my better senses. I scurried in rapid steps onto 3rd Avenue South and beheld a remarkable sight; four more adversaries dressed like my stalker. A loud horn blew as I scrambled in haste across the street without looking where I was going.

Needless to elaborate, I didn't have time to explain the finer points of life to the bedraggled Golden Ager behind the wheel of the turquoise Florian that practically broadsided me. He slammed on his brakes. I heard his tires squeal loudly as their tread skidded against the surface of the road in an effort to gain traction. I thought he might have a heart attack. Instead of exchanging polite conversation with the Mario Andretti wannabe, I rounded the corner of the Havenasher Furniture Restoration Store on Elm Pike and gained a second wind as I zoomed along.

Certain I could find a route to evade my trackers, I raced past a green dipsty dumpster and rounded a corner...smack dab into a red brick retainer wall I did not know impeded me. Fortunately, I braced the full tilt impact with my hands and bounced off the barrier unharmed.

If I had been a proponent of profanity I would have thunderously screamed loud enough to wake all the dead, "SON OF A GOBSTOPPING B-----!" And, I do not mean female dog.

As Bugs Bunny exclaimed, "Definitely a wrong turn at Pismo Beach!"

"Got'cha!" the lawman said with a wide smirk on his face. He grabbed me forcefully by my shoulders and spun me around to face him. "You stand right still before I whop you a real good one up aside your head with my nightstick! Make me hafta chase after you. What is wrong with that picture?"

My eyes scanned the area to see if I could make a desperate departure. "Almost got away."

"What you almost got was creamed by that car you bolted in front of, wiseacre. And, Bubba, I thought you were going to burrow right through that wall."

"Should have."

"What you should have done, Speed Burner, was never have run off from where you orphans belong at Hermitage Hall. But, I assure you, your running days are done Mr. Think-You-Know-It-All-And-Don't-Even-Know-What-The-Questions-Of-Life-Are-All-About-Yet. Now, you do like I told you and stand right still until the car gets here. We'll have you back in no time."

I watched his partners in crime swiftly approach. Surrounded on all four sides, I knew my gig was up and it was time to raise the white flag of surrender. So much for my eluding the long arm of the law. In retrospect, I didn't last a hot minute. A squad car arrived and I was placed onto the backseat of the cruiser. Steel bars seperated the rear of the front seat of the vehicle from the section I was caged in.

I thought to myself, "So, this is what it feels like to be an outlaw."

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

In Chapter Sixteen, I am processed at the precinct.