I thought I had a good memory......especially where old race cars were concerned. I shoulda remembered that old car! I CAN remember it now, but, now, I'm worried that too many salty Carolina moons may have passed. Oh, I've got a propped-up excuse, it sounds good. Really, it's the Federal government that is to blame.....just build a four-lane by-pass around any map-dot community, and, first thing you know, EVERYBODY DRIVES on it. Happens every time! NOBODYtakes the 'old' road anymore. 'Old' road attractions, even those a mere FIFTEEN MILES AWAY, and even if they happen to be an out-to-pasture '55 Chevy RACE CAR, CAN be forgotten.....can't they?Let's see,this particular modernizing by-pass was completed sometime in the '90's, and a Carolina PINE tree, can grow a LOT in that much time. North Carolina is NOT known as the "Tar Heel" state..........pine trees.......tar.........turpentine.......rosin (it a'int all about Chapel Hill) for nothin'. But, I hate to admit, that NOW I do remember the old girl......... I hate to admit it, but it took an internet post from an anonymous "racer 12" reminding me of this treasuse. Mysteriously, this racer 12 knew me, and that I was in the same general neighborhood, and that I would likely pursue this candle-in-the-wind prospect............just like Grant taking Richmond....................and.............. racer12 was right!Some stuff, Jeff Foxworthy can't even make up............."if you've ever spent Christmas Eve...........trying to scope an old race car,with a dog barking in the background.........well, you know. But, It really WAS Christmas Eve, so I closed up shop early............ no,not really for the holiday, but I was on a mission.........find that '55 Chevy before dark!So there I was........looking in a thicket and not seeing a whole lot, except a glimmer of chorme that once surrounded a windshield, AND the shadowy hint of a silhouette. There was a house, across the street, and, naturally, there was at least one dog barking (at me)........... there's always a dog............. and I was (kind of) tresspassing, I guess. Then, another dog, at another house joined in, barking, like it was going out of style, and alerting its owner, who started walking over to investigate..........At that moment, the imaginary background soundtrack (for this movie) switched from Jeff Foxworthy to Tim Wilson........"She was a raw-boned woman........raised on the farm.......had 'Bear' Bryant tatooed on both her fore-arms............Ricky Tidwell's mamma.............gonna play football!"........Smiling as friendly as I could, while simultaneously introducing myself to Ricky Tidwell's mamma............. she finally responded to my introductory question............"I'm AFRAID I DO know who owns this car............... my brother, and he left it there to remind him where all his money had gone. He raced it at Leland and Myrtle Beach or somewhere down there. Now, he lives in Pennsylvania My sister'll probably just push it and them trees all down one day, when she fianlly decides to clean up this place, with a BULLDOZER" But, surprisingly, when I mustered the courage to ask Mrs. Tidwell if she thought the car could be BOUGHT, she volunteered to retrieve the precise phone number. As she fumbled with her own cell-phone, getting her brother's number, I tried to make light of the situation.....like...........it was just any-ol'-ordinary Christmas-looking-at-an-old-race-car-Eve............"uh,you got some nice-looking.......Oysters" I heard myself say, as I was staring into an plastic cooler on her front porch........"where'd you get 'um?" I continued............."Eagle Island"..........she replied, while ripping the compostion page out of its notebook, "they always wash 'um........"......She handed me the scribbled phone number "did you say you were from VarnumTown?" Holy-moly do I sound like THAT? I wondered, alarmed. Do I sound like I'm a VarnumTowner............with their Hoigh-Toid accent more pronounced than any 'banker' on Hatteras..........? "NO, mam, Shallotte...........I'm from Shallotte" I blurted, followed quickly by a sincere "Thank you, Mam, for the number" I managed..........." I'm gonna put on some collards later on... tonite...........cant' stand the smell of 'um, though"........ she concluded, smiling.Since I was no longer an interloping tresspasser, and since the dogs weren't barking as much, I returned to the pine-tree-encircled '55 chevy race car, camera in hand. I usually look at the glass has half full, especially with such an important topic, but even with as much enthusiasm as I could muster........this Chevy was a sad sight for sore eyes.For starters, if this once black Chevy ever had a painted-on number, it had vanished. Mother Nature, no doubt. There was a VERY large tree GROWING into the Chevy's front bumper. And, appropriately, there was a matching bookend at the rear bumper. Mother Nature. Not a real big deal, and it might have been on the forest floor, underneath decades of pine straw, but the trunk was missing, the roof was separated from the drip-rail. Mother Rusty Nature. The same held true for the floor boards, the lower quarter panel/fenders/door. It had roll bars, a floor shift-hooked to a transmission, and a seat from a '60's era Mustang. Happily, I could not miss the classic 3/4 ton Ford rear-axle-converted-as-a- right-front-hub and a OEM appearing rear end. I could not lift the hood (LOTS of pine straw), but peering through the tire-and-wheel-less left front fender, I could make out a Chevy in-line six.......with the intake and exhaust manifold missing. So, it was a jalopy/amateur/hobby racer........not a late model........its six cylinder was iron-clad proof.But, is the old Chevy too far gone? It can be rescued from the forest.........there's a few young sweet-gums that will have to go.....but getting 'er out the woods a'int the real problem. Can she be saved............? Yes. Should she be saved....................? Yes. Can she be bought....................? Don't know, can't get Ricky Tidwell's mamma's brother on the phone.............yet.Stay Tuned