finally sells it to someone who does not. The X-51 fit this pattern, and would have been rendered into scrap iron except for two people, both of whom dreamed of turning back the clock and making the legendary X-51 perfect again. The car represented something important to them—important enough that one man would keep the car for 17 years with the dream of restoring it and the other would spend a year of his life obsessively searching for it. The difference was that one of them had the resources to do this—but the other man had the car. 1974. Fifteen years had passed since the X-51 had last been publicly seen—it had dropped out of sight, could have been wrecked, junked, been processed through Schnitzer’s shredder and already returned from Japan, reincarnated in the form of a new Datsun or Toyota. Enter Portland grocer and produce distributor, John Corno. Over the years Corno has built more awardwinning hot rods and customs than you can shake a long stick at. An avid collector as well, he’s had to build numerous garages just to house them. The cars he’s had constructed are prime examples of the tradition of Northwest rod building, cars that are imaginative, tasteful and well- crafted. He has an obsession with fine machinery and he can’t stand shoddy workmanship. People still talk about the Corno-Meeks’ rear engined street roadster, a car that set California car builders on their ears almost 10 years ago. A born administrator, Corno’s method is to establish the divisions of labor. He has the money to hire the best people to do whatever needs to be done—welding, engine work, upholstery, paint. In this way he’s able to see a car from conception to finish in a matter of months, unlike most builders who spend that much time daydreaming about their project. He, too, had been at the car shows in ’57 and ’58 and the X-51 had left its impression. Corno is a practical person, but like most of us he likes to think about the past, recalling the things that were good, yearning for the things that have been lost. For some time he had been looking for the X-51. In the past few months, his efforts had intensified. Friends recall him following up leads on the car, climbing around in blackberry bushes, examining shells of abandoned cars. Eventually his efforts began to pay off. He made contact with a number of people who said, yes, the legendary X-51 did exist. It was owned by a man named Willy. But no one knew where Willy or the X-51 might be. Later Corno learned that Willy drove a cab, and after a number of calls to cab companies, the year’s quest brought results: he found Willy—but Willy didn’t want to sell. He’d bought the car from a used car lot on Union Avenue right after Courtney had sold in 1959; he’d owned the X-51 for 17 years, and he intended to restore the car to the grandeur it had once known. There was a minor obstacle, money, and as soon as that problem was solved he’d have the X-51 in show condition again. Corno continued to call Willy, offering cash for the car, trying to wear him down, but he got nowhere. Finally, weeks later, he got permission to look at the car. As Corno recalls it, he drove to a garage near Franklin High one Saturday morning, arriving before Willy, and knocked on the door. The house and garage belonged to Willy’s ex-wife, who refused to open the door to Corno’s knocks. When he identified himself as a friend of Willy’s, she threatened to call the police; when he said he simply wanted to look at the car in the garage, she said she didn’t want to hear about that damned car! Corno pleaded with the ex-wife as he had with Willy, urging her to simply let him see the car. A long silence, and then...the sound of chain locks being released, a chair being pulled away from where it had been propped against the door knob. A small girl opened the door a crack and handed him a key to the garage. He opened the garage door and there it was. He felt the thrill of excitement known to prospectors who hit a mother lode, climbers who ascend to the peak. His excitement at finding the car caused him to gloss over its flaws. It didn’t look too bad—the Fiesta Red paint had faded to a dull pink, the deck lid was smashed in, the right fin drooped a bit—a little bodywork and paint, he thought, and the X-51 would be as he remembered it. As he squeezed between the car and the wall he noticed that the X-51 lacked tires and wheels; it was sitting on blocks. He glanced inside, then did a double-take: there was mold NEW OPEN DAILY 8 a.m. ’till 11:00 p.m BREAKFAST SERVED DAILY 8:00 a.m. ’till 11:00 a.m. 4343 S.E. 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