One weekend night around the midnight hour I decided to go to ground and write reports. I had already caught two DUIs before midnight. I pulled into an egress lane on the side of Thornton Road and turned off my lights. My radar was squealing as light traffic passed. Listening to the radar tones, I began my report writing for the night. My tour ended around 06:00, so I was just about halfway through my shift. Only the high squeal of fast-moving traffic would make me look up. Once in a while, a couple of keepers sped past, but I had too many reports to write. I wanted to go home right after my shift with all my reports already done. Last century, our reports had to be handwritten on paper reports. I never could get a typewriter’s keys to align with the margins of the reports. Just writer’s cramp. I still write in all CAPS today.

Well, back to work. I was coming up empty with traffic violators now. Traffic seemed to cut off far too early for a Friday or Saturday night. I thought perhaps I’d have better luck fishing on Interstate-20. I left my stationary radar spot, deciding to go and patrol westbound on Interstate 20. To the east was Cobb Co., Fulton Co., and City of Atlanta. Westbound was my Douglas Co., Carroll Co., then Alabama. Entering onto Interstate 20 I fell in behind an early 70s black Z28 Camaro. I was a teenager in the 70s. The “Z” was my teenage dream car.

Hey! That Camaro is weaving. About half of his car swerved into the emergency lane, and then it leisurely swerved back into the traffic lane. My curiosity was aroused. I think something might be wrong with that driver. A hint, maybe.

No traffic was near as I activated my lights. Just a regular traffic stop in the middle of the night on the side of any Interstate. Just a bump on the siren will be all that’s needed. I sped up to the rear bumper of the Camaro. Some LEO’s usually try to get as close to the bumper of our violators as safely possible. We would try to notice the number of occupants or any movements inside the car first. When the blue lights were activated, there would be no doubt as to who needed to stop. I’ve almost run into the back of a number of rear bumpers when people would freak out and slam on brakes for the blue lights. Right Troop?

With mic in hand, I hit the blue lights and gave the pertinent information of tag, vehicle description, location, etcetera to radio. When I finally bumped the siren, it was like the trumpets at the Kentucky Derby. The Camaro hit the gas. Black and gray smoke burst from the Camaro’s dual exhaust pipes. “Now it was on – massive dose”!

I heard the Camaro’s throaty 4-barrel kick in. It just so happened that I also had a four-barrel police pursuit vehicle. Some of our cruisers actually had the word “interceptor” on the rear door windows. Police package models. This was a cop car; it was made before fuel injection was equipped on gasoline engines. It was all carburetors back then. I called in the chase. (10-80)

Having been a radio operator myself, I was trained to speak in a calm, normal voice during “Dump” situations. As I have said, everyone listening would have an adrenaline jolt. Patrol deputies, radio operators, City and State units, even citizens listening on scanners at home would probably perk up. Home scanners were extremely popular in the 70s and 80s. Just as popular as the car C.B. radios. (Citizens Band)

“141 Douglas County, 10-80, west on I-20 approaching Lee”. Radio would then respond with a “10-3, 10-33”. 10-3 = stop all traffic, 10-33 = emergency traffic to follow. All LEO’s listening would have had their individual dumps. The sheriff’s band car to car channel went into action. I continued, “Radio I’m 10-80 with a black Camaro, early 70s, tag #*****”. Radio repeated my traffic for all. “Radio, we are exiting onto Lee Road.” Radio also repeated that traffic. I was receiving encouragement from my fellows on car to car. Everyone was headed my way, but once again, no one was close enough to intersect with us as we sped along. “We are now south on Lee Road towards County Line radio.”

It was now supervisor time. LEO’s would head towards the action no matter where they would be located in their jurisdictions. Those who were not close would be turned away to stay in zone. Douglas County had only two zones, 1 and 2. Lee Road was a 2-lane blacktop, winding and dark then. We were flying around 65 on the 45mph county road. Luckily, on the 2-lane county road, there was no traffic. It was a dead night, alright.

As we approached County Line Road, the Camaro locked it down. The driver slid into the last driveway on the right before reaching County Line Road. I was far enough back to turn into the driveway right behind him without the slide. I radioed my location as we both entered the homeowner’s driveway. I was blue lights and siren beside the house towards the backyard. We both were slinging lawn grass clods into the air. I saw the Camaro race under a clothesline and came to a stop at the homeowner’s backyard tree line. The Camaro slid to a stop and the driver bailed into the woods. What looked to be a young, skinny white male abandoned the Camaro and ran into the woods. In police jargon, the driver took a bush bond.

I followed the Camaro under the clothesline, right on its tail. I heard my car roof scrape above me as I went under the clothesline myself. I didn’t have any roof lights to snag, so I wasn’t concerned as I hit my brakes. Our task force cruisers were all slick-tops.  As I slid to a stop and exited my unit behind the Camaro, I realized that the driver had too big of a jump for me to catch him in the dark wooded area. By the time I came to a stop, all I could do was yell at the driver in the woods. “I’ve got your car”! “You’ll never get it out of impound until you see me”!

I then looked behind myself to see the clothesline on the ground and two white poles bent downward. The Camaro sat lower to the ground than I did, I guessed. The poles were slightly uprooted, and large furrows were left in the yard. Turning off my siren, I saw lights start to come on in the house. Well crap, I can just hear the Sheriff, “Englett, meet me in my office.” Earl wasn’t big on using numbers. He just said what he wanted on the radio most of the time.