Hot Wheels, Reminiscing, And Memories In Boxes

I was buzzing thru the grocery store yesterday, doing the Wednesday afternoon post-work routine of buying groceries for the week. At the end of one of the freezer aisles Kroger had put a bin full of Matchbox ‘Hot Wheels’ cars. It seemed kind of out of place at Kroger. I could see it at Walmart or Meijer for sure, but not at Kroger. This was strictly a grocery establishment; deli, meat counter, produce, aisles of canned goods and boxed dinners, freezer section and one random aisle for candles, school supplies, cooking utensils and books. What were Hot Wheels doing next to frozen veggies and Marie Callender frozen pies?

Of course I had to stop and take a gander. The 8-year old me would have been so disappointed in the 49-year old me if I hadn’t. But then the 8-year old me would have been disappointed in the selection. The collection I had in 1982 was impressive. A who’s who of classic cars, creeper vans, luxury sedans, and oddball vehicles on four wheels that could have easily raced in Hanna-Barbera’s ‘Wacky Races’. One of my favorites was one my older brother had given me, which was a dark blue van with The Thing on both sides of it. The ‘Ben Grimm’ Thing, that is. There was something quite sleek and somewhat sinister about it, despite everyone’s favorite “it’s clobberin’ time” superhero plastered on the sides.

My collection was an oddball gathering of four-wheeled eccentricities. Everything from 70s Jaguars to desert road trip American muscle cars to trusty pick-up trucks and economy hatchbacks had a place in my Hot Wheels collection. Oddly enough my favorites weren’t so much the tough guy roadsters, but the luxury sports cars and everyday vehicles. My imagination could go interstellar as a kid, but I also liked basing my play in a relatable reality. I mean, I didn’t cruise around town with my mom in a ‘The Thing’ van or a German luxury sports car. We went to the grocery, bank, and Harvey’s Dime Store in an Omni Miser, then later on a 1984 Honda Accord. And because of that I was drawn to practical vehicles in my Hot Wheels collecting.

I was a boring little kid, I guess.

As I gave that bin a little side eye yesterday I wasn’t all that impressed. Nothing really popped out, and if I’m being honest I found the selection rather garish. Weird colors, odd body styles, and just an overall cheap quality pervaded the packaged die-cast motor coaches. It was sort of disappointing, but then again I’m 49-years old. They really shouldn’t appeal to me. I guess kids these days prefer less reality in their play. Good for them.

I started thinking about all the trips I would take to the store with my kids and how when we’d go to places like Walmart and Meijer there was always a stop in the toy aisle. It was mandatory we’d check out Marvel and DC action figures, Barbie, Bratz, and then when they got older it was Lego sets. While I did hit those aisles with my daughters, it was my son and I that were regulars. Always looking for new Marvel Legends action figures, Transformers, and the latest and greatest Lego sets. He wasn’t so much a collector of Hot Wheels, but that was fine. Those were my thing when I was his age. His was lifelike figures of Batman, The Avengers, and whatever else he could find that coincided with the release of the next great Marvel cinematic experience.

We’d end up in the music room downstairs, watching some ancient VHS tape in our “Retro Lounge” which consisted of a couple old chairs, an end table, and our 32″ Toshiba tube TV with our old VCR hooked up to it. The boy would have a Fanta in a glass bottle and I’d pour an IPA into a pint glass. It was our spot to watch ancient tapes and goof around with action figures, away from the hustle and bustle of teen life upstairs.

As much as I hemmed and hawed with “Okay, but let’s hurry up” and “We don’t have much time so make it quick”, I did enjoy those excursions into the toy aisle with the boy. It put me back to when I was 7, 8, 9, and 10 years old searching the toy aisles at 3D, Harvey’s, Tepe’s, and Kmart hoping to find something Kenner, Hasbro, and Mattel that I could persuade my mom to buy me. Besides of course the t-shirt, pajamas, and gym shoes she was already snagging on behalf of her red-faced, Husky jeans-wearing son. There was a kind of warm, buzzing joy as a kid to check out toys and see what you could find, and the thrill of possibly walking out of that store with something new to add to the collection. I certainly didn’t bring something home every time, but when I did I felt like a million bucks.

Glancing over at the mostly sad Hot Wheels at the store yesterday I was reminded of those days with the boy. It made me a little sad; melancholy longing for days that have drifted and now live in the way past. It’s been years since those toy aisle memories with my kids. Girls mature quicker than boys, leaving behind the dolls and play sets for pop stars, jewelry, and edging towards maturity sooner than us goofy boys. Hell, I was playing with my GI Joe and Transformers toys right up until rock and roll and guitar became my obsession just shy of 7th grade. I still found joy in setting up battle scenarios on the basement stairs as our miniature schnauzer Klaus stared on like a bearded gargoyle at the top steps. My son was similar, even going on to collect some pretty amazing “collectible” action figures into middle school. By then they were more display and on shelves in his room for gawking and dust collecting purposes, but he kept them there until – like me – music and learning an instrument became his main priority and obsession.

Nowadays those action figures are boxed up and stored away in the basement, much like my own toys from childhood. There are boxes of early 80s Star Wars, GI Joe, and Transformers toys intermingling with boxes filled with Imaginext, Marvel Legends and Diamond Select action figures. They wait for someday when another little tyke wants to open his or her mind up to the world of imagination. Setting up battle scenarios as a dog watches on in indifference, while dinner is cooked in another room. Maybe it’ll be my grandchildren. Maybe it’ll be some random little kid that gets this amazing set of stinky, 80s-era plastic spaceships from an estate sale with oddball action figures with names like Chewbacca, Klaatu, and Bossk. Who knows?

Hell, maybe they’re waiting for me and the boy to pull them out on some random, rainy Sunday afternoon. Me with a pinto or two, and the boy with a Fanta. Waiting for us to open those boxes, lay those toys out and see where the afternoon takes us.