"The Race Is On" was written by Don Rollins and recorded by George Jones on his September 26, 1964 United Artists record label album I Get Lonely In A Hurry.

A staple George Jones performed in almost every live performance, "The Race Is On" reached the Number Three position on the Billboard Hot Country Songs chart.

George Jones recorded "The Race Is On" a second time for his April 1965 United Artists record label album of the same name.

Part of the song's lyrics included:

"Now the race is on
And here comes pride in the backstretch
Heartache's goin' to the inside
My tears are holdin' back
They're tryin' not to fall
My heart's out of the runnin'
True love's scratched for another's sake
The race is on and it looks like heartaches
And the winner loses all"

This was one race I could not afford to lose.


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I SURVEYED MY SURROUNDINGS IN A FRANTIC EFFORT TO FORM AN ESCAPE PLAN, WHICH WAS THE ONLY THOUGHT ON MY MIND. The 409-foot tall Life and Casualty Tower that had been constructed in 1957, and was the first skyscraper in Nashville, became the focal point of my observation. During the building's early days, its sign at the apex changed colors to indicate weather forecasts. Today there are thirty-nine such ginormous creations in town, with another twenty-two either under construction or approved to be built. That placed me on Church Street, but, I sure was not in no sanctuary.

A variety of independently owned and operated mom-and-pop establishments, including Miller's Bookstore, Johnson's Green Grocer, and Drysdale's Candle Shop, surrounded the multi-story edifice. They lined both sides of the street I was corralled in. A suffocating feeling of being enclosed like a wild mustang engulfed me. In order to have any chance to keep my prized freedom I knew I had to stay calm and slowed down my breathing.

"Remain in the moment and unflappable." These words of wisdom came from Shifu Chao Feng. He once taught my tai chi class at Hermitage Hall. He also told us, "The principles of tai chi were based on ancient Chinese taoism and stressed the natural balance in all things." I'd soon find out just how much the martial arts exercises he'd taught us had increased my aerobic capacity.

As I stepped towards the officer an austere and somber expression crossed his face. He announced into his radio's mouthpiece, "Delinquent is 10-76 to my position."

I was unsure of what he meant. At the time I had not yet learned the police 10 Code. Located next to Thompson's Taxidermy, a small crevice, not much bigger than a rabbit hole, caught my attention. The narrow fissure signaled what I thought might be a possible exit. I'd previously been in this shop. They kept a stuffed partridge, centered in a bulrushes and cattails-filled wetlands habitat, in the store's display window I'd wanted to examine up closer.

The egress never looked better to a boy in reckless abandonment. Full of disregard for the consequences of my swift actions, I darted for the daylight I'd ascertained. If only I had the wings of a hunting eagle swooped down after prey its keen eye spotted from its lofty eyrie. Alas, I did not and knew it was a long shot. What other choice option did I possess? More important, where was Greyhound when I urgently needed the vaunted carrier to whisk me out of harm's way?

Irritated by my gesture the gumshoe squawked, "Juvenile now headed south in the alley behind Drysdale's Candle Shop. All units move into perimeter position!" Smothered with enthusiasm for capturing this runaway, he was in what you might call avid hot pursuit.

A silver-haired senior citizen pushed a shopping buggy towards the entryway of Johnson's Green Grocer. I snatched it out of her wrinkled hand. Without breaking stride, I hurled the wire winnebago in the direction of the cop chasing me. The cart hit a pothole in the road and tilted on its right side. The old lady's purse spilled from the basket. I did not have time to notice what contents sprang forth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the athletic police officer caught the grocery hauler before it tipped over. Her eyebrows contracted down and close to one another, the elderly woman stood frozen in place with an "I can't believe that little boy just did that!" annoyed scowl on her face. I didn't get a good look at her, except the dermoid cyst on the tip of her drooped beak and her square jaw. I glanced around for her broom and black cat but did not see them.

I mumbled, "Looks just like Marie Laveau, the most famous voodoo queen whoever existed. Must be from New Orleans."

A cluster of strangers I could not avoid stood in my path. I forced my way into the middle of the dingbats and do-dos and yelled, "Coming through!"

One of them encouraged the others, "Get him!"

A grey business suit reached for my arm.

I pulled free. In anger I screamed, "Keep your paws off the merchandise. I'm not for sale, Yappy Doodle!"

That was not the golden opportunity for the wannabe, who must have aspired to be some sort of hero, to play Good Samaritan and assist the law in apprehending me. I wanted to yank my boots off and run in bare feet. I would have heaved them at his head. Wearing heavier, they slowed down my steps.

I saw my police adversary closing the gap between us and began to feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck.

(TO BE CONTINUED:)

In Chapter Fifteen, my pursuit comes to an end.