"Spud Long had led every lap, and he would have WON that race, if he hadn't blown a radiator hose...........!" My dad proclaimed, to me and my mom, at the dinner table. "Spud's even making his living RACING, now!" ........my dad continued.It was summer, the historic year of 1964. John F. Kennedy had been assassinated the previous November, a case that still defies logic and explanation, and in the same month, Wendell Scott had (belatedly) won a NASCAR Grand National event in Jacksonville, Florida. Lyndon Baines Johnson was in the White House, wheather anybody wanted him or not. Joe Weatherly lost his life in January at Riverside, California, and the Beatles turned western culture upside down that February. Richard Petty led a sweep of hemis at Daytona and racing lost Fireball Roberts at that year's "World 600" (with my parents in attendance). That same tragic Memorial Day weekend, Dave MacDonald and Eddie Sachs would loose their lives in the "Indianapolis 500". Tragically, before the calendar would change, NASCAR would loose Jimmy Pardue, and Billy Wade. LBJ trounced Barry Goldwater that November ulitmately unleashing an era of American cynicism that continues to haunt.My dad lied about his age, joined the Navy in 1949 for a one year tour, then joined the Army in 1950.Dad volunteered as a paratrooper and spent the Korean war years at Fort Campbell, Kentucky attaining the rank of Master Sargent and training jump recruits en-route to the war front, and reading about the new sport of stock car racing.As fate and luck would dictate, my hometown of Shallotte, NC is about 100 miles from Darlington, SC. My dad attended the first "Southern 500" in 1950, and upon his discharge from the Army in 1953, he was a pre-interstate-highway-era race fan. Darlington (camping in the parking lot), Daytona ([me] camping in the parking lot [1971]), Bristol, Martinsville, N.Wilkesboro, Charlotte, even Raleigh, dad made all the stops and was into NASCAR (WAY) before NASCAR was cool. My mom went, sometimes, and she told me, more than once,......."I never want to see YOUR name painted on a RACE CAR!"So, my dad's proclaimaitons at the dinner table, over Spud Long, local racing and racing in general, was hardly out of the ordinary, for us. Dad, and his friends, had recently taken in a race at the $0.99 admissioned Conway Raceway. "They raced and fought all night long...." That was my dad (and company's) official opinion, and they loved it.Clifton Leo "Spud" Long, Jr. was a Wilmington hot-rodder-drag-racer-turned-stock-car driver, that my dad's best friend, Bill Tripp, "knew". Bill knew just about everybody, it seemed, or claimed that he did. And, more times than not, he was correct. Spud operated out of Wilmington, and was somehow connected with well-known (Whiteville, NC) engine builder, Jack Ellis. Also, important to my dad (BIG Petty/MoPar fan), Spud was driving a '57 Plymouth Fury (coincidentally) #43. Also, at the time, our FAMILY car happened to be a 1957 Golden Commando Fury; even at 10 years old, I could connect the dots on this one. "Spud", our new racing hero, had just missed victory, that summer, at a new track called the "Carolina Beach Speedway".The very next Sunday afternoon, me, my dad, and Bill Tripp were on our way to Carolina Beach in Bill's '63 Corvair. At 10 years of age, I did not really know where we were. By road, the trip was about 60 miles, about twice the actual distance (as the crow flies) from home. And, as usual Bill made a 6 ounce "small" Coca-Cola last the entire distance. When we took our seat in the grand stand, I was shocked. I had been going to the races at Rambi and Darlington for two seasons and I knew what a race track was supposed to look like, this was NOT it.For one thing, there was no clay. A drit track without clay! It was reddish-yellow sand. Deep ruts, and when the race cars accelerated, they produced dirt rooster tails, kinda like a speed-boat. The sandy ruts was a problem but combined with the bumps and holes, it all produced the strangest race track that I have ever seen. Then and now. There was a white '57 Ford #54, bouncing around the "speedway", a crowd favorite. It's driver was "Hoss" Ellington. Battling Hoss for the win that Sunday afternoon, 44 years ago, was a red '55 Chevy. The Chevy had a number "6" that was "crossed" out with a black magic marker, and the number "3" had been added to the front fender, also with magic marker. The quarter panels of the Chevy had "Clark's Sausage" in blue stenciled letters. On the roof was the driver's name: "Richard B." These two waged a torrid duel, but Richard B. emerged victorius, seems the Ellington Insulation entry suffered a mechanical failure.Epilogue:"Richard B." aka Richard Brickhouse, and Everette "Hoss" Ellington would not be content to remain at the Carolina Beach Speedway, or any of the other local tracks. Incredibly, both would, successfully, set their sites on NASCAR's Grand National division.Unbelievably, Richard Brickhouse would finish 4th in his initial GN effort, Rockingham's 1968 "Carolina 500" . In five short years (from Carolina Beach) Richard Brickhouse of Rocky Point, NC, and graduate of the Carolina Beach Speedway, would be the champion of 1969's inaugural "Talladega 500", aboard a "factory backed" Dodge Daytona, in one of NASCAR's strangest and most politically volatile moments. After NASCAR, Richard Brickouse would open the Pender County Speedway in the late '70's, it survived a few seasons, but closed in the early 1980's.After driving for several seasons in the mid to late '60's, Hoss Ellington would become a team owner on the Winston Cup circuit. In 1976, the Ellington Insulation Monte Carlo with Donnie Allison driving, won Charlotte's "National 500". Three years later, with "Hawaiian Tropic" as sponsor, the team was poised to possibly win the 1979 "Daytona 500" Instead Donnie and Cale Yarborough tangled on the track and off the track, the famous single event that supercharged network TV interest in NASCAR racing.Clifton Leo "Spud" Long, Jr. retired, eventually, from his racing job and became and educator. After teaching at the high school level for several years, Spud advanced to the role of principal, and is now retired.My dad, Glen Williamson, and Bill Tripp would soon drag home a '55 Chevy that we "built" into a race car. We would race at the Carolina Beach Speedway later that summer, and over the next eight years, many of the coastal carolina dirt tracks. Dad was fatally injured when his plane crashed returning home from Rockingham's 1976 "American 500"......... On the plus side, history often repeats itself, and, now, Bill Tripp often accompanys me and my race team at our local dirt Dublin (NC) Motor Speedway.Clay eventually replaced the sand at Carolina Beach, and Buddy Baker even made a promotional appearance. But it was too little and too late. There was too many dirt tracks, and with the opening of nereby Leland Raceway in 1967, the end was sight for Carolina Beach. The property was sold a couple of times and eventually became "The Cape" golf course. So, if you're ever vactioning in the area, consider a trip form Wilmington down hwy 421 south to Carolina Beach. Just before crossing the Intracoastal Waterway, at Snow's cut, if you look, just right, the red dust still swirls as a '57 Ford battles a '55 Chevy............for all the marbles!