It just so happens that Randall Davis also happens to be my Uncle Randall, brother of my father.  It was Christmas Eve, 2004, and my family had gathered over at my grandmother’s house to celebrate Christmas and spend time together over the holidays. Uncle Randall was conspicuous by his absence, because I always looked forward to catching up (and joking around) with him. When I asked why Randall was not there yet, I was told that he was completing a trip to Nova Scotia  to “restore an old race car.”

At the time, I had no idea how much this excursion meant to Randall, or that it was the breakthrough he had been looking for.  Uncle Randall, you see, was on an unwavering quest to find the Dixie Twister for Huston Platt. As I would later find out, Randall Davis had spent years looking for that legendary funny car, including one instance in New Orleans that resulted in Randall spending time and money to travel to the Big Easy with nothing to show for it. There was not even a car for him to look at in New Orleans, because his contact did not think Randall was serious about coming all the way from Georgia to get a car.

When Randall finally arrived, I could tell his trip had been a success. He was grinning from ear to ear, but he wanted to keep the reason for his trip a secret. He would only say that he had gone to Canada to find an old race car that he received a tip about. Christmas time is about showing family and friends how much you care, and Randall had found the chassis from the Dixie Twister just in time to begin crafting a miracle for Huston Platt.

Christmas Eve, 2004, changed my perception of my uncle forever.