Week 73: AMC Javelin

(A behind the scenes look at the blogging process.)

This week's tiny car and subsequent clever tie in to family life is an AMC Javelin, the car James Bond drives in the famous barrel roll stunt in Live and Let Die. Perfect. I might not yet know have a topic on which to write as I have procrastinated and also have been exceptionally ill, but no matter. I've been thinking there must be some potential tie-in with this Bond car for almost a month, something somehow contrasting how cool it was in the 1970s versus how many folks now think of AMC (the leaky Pacer, the Gremlin.)

There is something there, right? Don't you think? Maybe? Image thing?

Well, let's just get started and go dig up a few interesting bits of trivia from the web and ...

What?? Is this right? The car in that spectacular stunt was actually a modified AMC Hornet hatchback? And it wasn't in Live and Let Die, but The Man With the Golden Gun? Okay, it did look like a Javelin, didn't it?  You don't remember the Javelin? So what, I don't remember the movie. Come on, I'm not a James Bond scholar.

No worries. It will all fall together, because I am sure my fever will actually boost the creative process, add some spice. Any second now. Just around the corner. Because all I'm actually feeling is tired. And stupid.

Okay, no, tired and stupid is good. That's a tie-in to which any parent can relate. Let's run with it. Tired. And Stupid. Good. And Javelin. Keep going. Golden Gun. Diamonds are Forever.  Wait, that isn't even related. Goldfinger. Butterfinger. Nobody better lay a finger on my Goldfinger. Oh god I need sleep. Odd Job. *snicker* Snicker? Snickers? And Butterfingers? Kids love candy. I know mine do. My five-year-old is always mooching Life Savers from me, the ones I received for Christmas in that little Live Savers book.

Wait, did I just dose off?

So there you have it. Tired and Stupid. Parent. Sick. The end.

I don't think it would really be so bad if I just catch a few zzz's here at the writing desk.



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Sidenote: I did find out in my research that the amazing Astro Spiral stunt, as it was called, was performed by  stuntman "Bumps" Willert BUT that stuntman Jimmy Canton did perform the stunt in an AMC Javelin in the 1972 Thrill Show that debuted in the Houston Astrodome on Jan. 15, 1972, so HAH! I also found out that the stunt was one of the first car stunts to use computer modeling in its planning, which was done at Cornell University.

Photo of AMC Javelin courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.

Week 72: 1962 VW Beetle

When I was a kid I had another orange VW Beetle diecast, but a Tootsie Toy instead of a Matchbox like above. I'm pretty sure I had painted it orange myself with Testor's model paint. I always had bottles of Testor's paint around.

In general I wasn't into model building as a kid, but I had the paint available due to my obsession with one collection of model kits: the Aurora Prehistoric Scenes collection (which later became Monogram Prehistoric Scenes).

These things were awesome: they snapped together, alleviating the very real threat of me accidentally model-cementing a plastic dino leg to my face (I have accidentally Super Glued my fingers together), and, most importantly, they were DINOSAURS!! Yeah, like 98 kazillion other kids, I had been entranced by dinosaurs.

Well, dinosaurs and other prehistoric stuff -- these kits also had a saber tooth tiger, a giant bird, and a cavemen and cave woman, who, by the way, wore a hottie, form fitting cave woman dress as we all know all prehistoric females did. For some reason, the cave woman was being terrorized by a two-headed snake, which I still remember I painted light blue with orange* spots. I always regretted my color choice for that snake.

I wasn't a good painter, but I did try. Building those kits are some of my fondest childhood memories, even if I did all of the assembling and painting down in our creepy back basement room.

This room was, if not haunted, truly messed up. It always held an air of mustiness, melancholy, and ominous presence. You could only shut the light off by pulling a string pull cord, after which time a thick darkness would pour through the cracks in the cement block walls to attempt to pull you into some type of Trilogy of Terror nightmare, even if it was still light outside. That room also had a nasty habit of kind of sucking up sound, so even if you played music to try to keep the pending darkness away, that Seals and Croft song always sounded hollow and tinny as the gloomroom munched on your tunes like peanut brittle. That, however, is how much I liked those models -- building them even offset my fear so that now even the spookiness holds a type of nostalgic charm for me.

Don't get me wrong -- I still would be terrified of that room. I just now find my terror somewhat charming.

I no longer have any of my Prehistoric Scenes models, but my memories are so complete I don't need the actual items. I've been thinking about those because Racer Z has begun seeking out Sonic the Hedgehog collectibles, and even though there is no painting OR gluing involved, a wonder if he will one day hold that same type of visceral fondness toward his collection as I do toward my prehistoric models. I hope so.

I hope I'm not depriving his future nostalgic musings by being unable to offer a haunted basement.

Side note: I went looking for images of those models online and found a website with a great photo gallery, although they all have much better paint jobs than I ever managed. The site appears to not have been updated since 2008, but it is a load of fun to browse: http://www.auroraprehistoricscenes.com/

* I suspect that orange paint was also used for painting that Tootsie Toy VW, which in turn provided a connection to this week's featured car, so maybe that bad snake paint job served a greater purpose after all.



Great picture of the VW bug by Phil Pekarcik, who I beg forgiveness for writing possibly the most tenuous connection yet between my featured car and post.

Week 71: Morgan Aeromax

The Morgan Aeromax -- even looking at its Matchbox facsimile wakes me from my stressed-out stupor as if the image of the car was some type of visual smelling salt for the soul, some type of cold water face splash for a tired mind. Seriously, I'm looking at the picture (taken by photographer Phil Pekarcik), and even a blog image of a photograph of a tiny toy of a real Morgan is enough to resuscitate me from whatever weariness has descended upon me.

Brothers and sisters, I fear I got a little bit of kid overload today.

Now you know I cherish my kids, and while I'll spare you the multiple paragraphs I could write telling you how much they mean to me, suffice it to say I embrace that I am a lucky guy to have such great kids.

If you're a human parent, than you already understand the reason for the preceding disclaimer and where I'm going with this. Kids are exhausting, even though saying so might cause one guilt.

Is it cute that my two year old is fixated on Modest Mouse's song "Float On" and asked me to play it first thing in the morning, at lunch, during dinner, and at all points in between?  I can't tell anymore. The same with his discovery and obsession with the game Hi Ho Cherri-o and the way he followed me around all day asking if I wanted to play, and then, if I said no, asking, "Later?"

Or is it a big deal my preschooler has a fascination with mixing multiple types of cereals in one bowl and must always ask  if there is a different kind in the cupboard, even though he knows I won't even check until the boxes that are out are used up? Sob -- he KNOWS I won't look, but yet he asks.

And how can the two youngest crack themselves up when they are riding in the car simply by shouting non sequiturs at each other (PIZZA! Heeheeehaa Blue House! HAHAHAHA. Mailbox! SQUEAL!!), and why doesn't the oldest son realize his telling them to stop only encourages it. Why?

*Sigh* -- it is useless. No matter what I type, any of the pieces of the collective kid stuffs that have worn me out will sound at worst mildly annoying, with most of them sounding charming and funny. Because, in fact, the things that drove me bonkers today were at worst mildly annoying, and were mostly charming and funny. I know that.

I know that.

Really. I know that.

I don't want any of it to go away (well, the kid bickering and arguing, yes, but not the rest), I just needed to recharge. My wife has been laid up from a recent surgery, and, because I am unemployed, I've been in the house a whole, whole lot.

Forgive me. All is good. Tell me you haven't felt like this at some point. Or, if you haven't, then please don't tell me.

And if a tiny diecast of a hand built English sports car is all it takes to help me recharge, then I'm cutting myself some slack by saying I think I'm doing okay.

 And maybe now, late at night as I type this, I can finally acknowledge that the two-year-old's earlier joke of climbing into a booster seat normally at the kitchen table but today on the ground in the other room, after I barked an exasperated dinner command at him of "Get into your seat!!", was actually kind of funny.

A delayed laugh is still a laugh, right?

Float on.


As mentioned earlier, pic of my Morgan Aeromax courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.

Week 70: 1971 Maverick Grabber

The Maverick Grabber -- holding this great little Hot Wheels car fully reminds me of how I became entranced about these toys in the first place. I love this car.

In parenting circles, however, grab is not the most positive of words. From frustrated commands, Don't grab that toy from him! to harried and hurried plans, I'm going to try and grab some lunch before I leave to go pick up the kids from _______, grab as a word makes me nervous. Having three kids in the house, I wouldn't want a car called the Grabber anymore than I might want one called a Pooper or a Tantrum SE.

Pre-parenting days I doubt the word would have had much emotional resonance to me. Grab bags, while sounding vaguely dirty, generally were fun things, and the word could have romantic intonations if I wanted to grab you and give you a big kiss. Even the previous mentioned lunch/dinner wasn't so ... busy. Grabbing a bite to eat was a good thing to be anticipated and not something to be hectically done between deadlines with preschools and pediatricians.

I think the word grab is so corrupted for me because when my kids grab, they grab with all their might. I'm remembering one instance when Baby G and Racer A got in an argument over a paper towel tube -- apparently there was some disagreement on ownership of this coveted toy -- and G grabbed onto one end. Neither kid would capitulate, however, and in the few seconds it took for me to reach them that 10 inch cardboard tube had unraveled so it resembled a three-foot cardboard Slinky, with both kids still holding on as if that tube could ever again be used as a sword or spyglass. I had once seen a nature special with two eagles fighting midair, locked by their talons in a death grip, plummeting to the ground. That cardboard tube showdown reminded me of that, except the shrieks from my kitchen were louder.

Listen, I'm okay losing the word grab -- it's not like I was all that fond of it, anyway. It is certainly not the only word I've lost -- if wet was ever a sexynaughty porn star of a word, it is not anymore -- wet now means put a plastic bag down in the car seat because there has been a diaper malfunction.

Things change, we get older, and sometimes words are the collateral damage. I'm okay with that.

Nonetheless, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll just call this week's featured car a Maverick.


Photo of this week's GRABBER courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.

Week 69: 1963 Studebaker Champ

This week's tiny car introduces the first Studebaker to my lineup, kicking off 2012 off with a welcome addition to my collection of little hip aquamarine vehicles.

The Studebaker Champ, produced between 1960 and 1964, was never offered with power steering, and while I have never driven one, I imagine parking a Champ might have been like driving one of those gigantic car-shaped shopping carts at the grocery store. Car carts also do not have power steering, and I suspect they need them more than the Studebakers did.

If you have never had the treat of pushing one of these monstrosities down a canned food aisle at a store, or of having been forced to hug the Chunky (soup) in the same aisle to let one of these extra-wide carts pass, bless your heart.

The idea is a kind of pimp-my-ride modified shopping cart designed to allow two children to sit side by side and presumably be so enthralled by the idea of a cart that looks like a car they forget they are doing grocery shopping. Silly? Absolutely, but for some reason it works. My two youngest love the car cart.

I snapped this picture right before I took out all of Aisle 3.

While I've taken the kids shopping before, I've always trumped up an excuse to not take the car cart, but a recent shopping visit with my wife caught me off guard, and before I could toss out an artfully constructed fabrication of why we couldn't possibly take it out for a spin, she had already bribed the kids with a promise of riding in this muscle car of a cart. By muscle car, I mean it takes muscle to maneuver this bulky thing, and I am not exaggerating when I say that at least once I had to pick up the front end of the cart to get it unstuck from the side of a shelf against which we had scraped.

For real. I got a shopping cart stuck.

I don't know if this is a guy thing or just one of my quirks, but pushing this cart embarrasses me, making me feel like I'm attending a social event with a cold sore on my face and a coffee spill on my crotch. In other words, this car causes me to feel self-conscious and awkward. Maybe it is because I understand that no matter how polite I try to be, I know I'm destined to inconvenience at least seven other shoppers and knock over at least one display.

Making things worse, the cart we grabbed had some type of wheel imbalance causing it to rumble like an industrial lumber cart at a home improvement store.  A few people actually turned around to look at the approaching noise, and given Ohio recently had an earthquake, I'm fairly certain the noise caused someone in the store to drop, cover his head, and duck down between his knees.

Pushing one of these carts, at least in our narrow aisle local grocery store, is like driving over a bridge on a one-lane road. You go forward, see someone else approach, pull back, wait for them to go by, shrug and smile, and repeat. This might go on for fifteen, sixteen times. There was one aisle we couldn't fit down at all due to the obstruction of some type of metal pole no matter how many times we rammed into it.

Luckily, however, the car cart is bright red molded plastic, I'm sure done for safety's sake so that any hearing impaired shoppers, unable to hear the roll of thunder of its wobbly wheels (although I bet even a deaf person could feel the vibrations put out by this thing), will be able to see it barreling down the cereal aisle, unable to stop due to the momentum built up by its weight. I'm sure that bright red color has saved a few lives.

Of course ultimately the car cart is for the kids, and if you're lucky, they'll be acting cute. This, however, is not likely, as very few siblings will stay cute when smushed together in a small seat and then strapped in so that at least one elbow is permanently angled into the other siblings face.

For the most part, my kids did great, with only a few of those car-alarm shrieks two-year-olds do to show displeasure, but there was one cringe-worthy moment.

My youngest was making a type of pyoo pyoo pyoo noise, an adorable little sing song, that caught the attention of an older shopper, who began to comment about his cuteness. That was until she realized, at approximately the same time as my wife, that the little pyoo pyoo was actually some type of laser, designed to blast her to smithereens. Her smile kind of faded away in a type of oh, I see, look.

In fairness, the laser wasn't being shot at her, but at the imaginary bad guys attacking.

Seriously, though, what the heck. Why would a store equip a shopping cart with lasers?

I should talk to the manager.

Photo of Hot Wheels Studebaker Champ courtesy of photographer Phil Pekarcik. 


Picture of Racer A, Baby G and car cart snapped on my phone by me. I'm hopping Hot Wheels makes a diecast of that cart.