Week 111: 1969 Mercury Cougar Eliminator

Serious muscle this week -- a Hot Wheel's 1969 Mercury Cougar Eliminator, decked out in yellow, white and red flames and presumably part of the Cranston Fire Department.

Firemen are a mainstay of childhood pretend games, as are robots. Even now, I would find a robot fireman cool. A robot fireman... that can fly.

And shoot lasers out of his eyes.

Yes, that would be cool. Maybe not as cool as the Eliminator above, but still very cool.

My youngest son, G, loves robots, the old school, 1950's I..AM..A RO..BOT type. A few days ago I had prepared a special treat with dinner (Stouffer's  Harvest Apples, if you must know), and after we ate, G picked up the discarded red Stouffer's box and put it over his right hand.

"Boop.........Boop....... I....AM...THE....KITCHEN....ROBOT.........Boop...."

G moved about kitchen in classic robot style, fingers straight out on the left hand and probably straight out on the right, too, if I had been able to see them under the box.  All the while, he continued to say "Boop.....Boop.....Boop....." at about five second intervals.

To make a Kitchen Robot: 1. Purchase Stouffer's Harvest Apples 2. Eat contents. 3. Put empty box on right hand. Now you're ready for Halloween.

As it turns out, while the Kitchen Robot did a bit of pretend cooking, it primarily just said "Boop," and G never broke character. He booped easily for one-half hour (which would be approximately 360 Boops), and finally his brother Racer A got tired of the booping and told him the robot broke.

G's eyes began to well up tears as he fought to fight back his sorrow. I shot a furrowed eyebrow glance at A, who smiled and shrugged, and went into parental damage control mode.

"Oh, the Kitchen Robot isn't broken. Don't listen to your brother."

*Sob*"He is broken! *sob* The Kitchen Robot is broken! He doesn't work anymore." G had become so wrapped up in the character he had lost track of the pretend aspect.

We were seconds away from a meltdown, and I had to think fast.

"A----, quick, get me the number five robot wrench over there and the spare 4B circuit on the shelf."

If there's only one thing I have learned about parenting, it is that kids can't resist a pretend command given with minimal instruction. Like a type of magical summoning, kids will respond. Unless they are pouting.

Racer A wasn't pouting, though, and he quickly moved to the back of the Kitchen Robot, losening  the pretend bolt and popping off the pretend plate to install the spare 4B circuit board, whatever it looked like.

"Great. Good job. Now power him down now and reboot him and we should be good."

Racer A made a "ZHouuuuuuu .. pop" noise with his mouth, and we both waited, watching G.

"Boop.......Boop.... Boop.... began G, his expressionless robot face looking straight ahead as he resumed his Kitchen Robot duties, apparently unaware of the temporary technical failure he had just endured.

Crisis averted.

Oddly, the Kitchen Robot returned the next day, and even the day after, but only when the Harvest Apples box was on his hand.

Such is the true beauty of a method actor.

Boop....Boop...THANK...Y0U...PHIL...PEKARC1K....F0R....PH0T0...OF H0T WH33LS EL1M1NAT0R...Boop....Boop...

Week 105: Goodyear Blimp

The above 1991 Hot Wheels Goodyear blimp was pulled from its original packaging to commemorate the second annual Daddy's Tiny Cars Race, which took place in my living room this past Friday. The tiny blimp didn't actually look fly above the race, but covered the event in a symbolic, Hot Wheelsy kind of pretend way. I could feel the presence of the imaginary film crew.

Participation increased this year to: myself; my kids: Racer A, Racer Z, and Baby G; my wife Rochelle; Tiny Cars photographer Phil; a friend of Z's, whom we will call the Mysterious Racer M, and my friend Les, who didn't race, but took on the role of track engineer and trouble shooter.

That's a lot of racing, and it felt like the below picture:

... a blur.

I structured this year's race as a single qualifying round and one final placement round. A grid on a clipboard allowed me to track that each racer challenged every other racer one time -- any more and the race would have taken too long and run the risk of pushing three-year-old Baby G into cranky overtime. Cranky overtime is very expensive.

Even as structured, the race spanned a few hours, but enthusiasm was maintained.

Les prepares for a race off between the Mysterious Racer M and
G, who appears to be cheering on the couch. Race is over here, G!

Each adult was permitted a single car, while kids could rotate out three cars so if they had a dud they could try another. This year saw a number of Hot Wheels novelty cars: a Scorpedo scorpion car, Vampyra, a bat/dragon type car, Sand Stinger, a racer all terrain vehicle, and even a 2011 Deora, which, if you don't know is a Hot Wheels classic with a big flat area that holds two surf boards. The removable orange surf boards were lost, but perhaps that was a strategy by G to make it faster.

Car selection is serious business. Make sure you have a doily.

To keep things balanced, I staggered the races so every few times a kid was up -- I didn't want all of one kid's races to be too close together so that he finished early and got bored or raced last and got bored early. There is no room for boredom in a Daddy's Tiny Cars race.

See? No boredom.

Making the event even more lively, the race paired up as a birthday celebration for Phil, so there was plenty of cake=sugar, kicking in the Nitro burners of Racer A and G.

The qualifying race took the top four onto the ranking round. I had a solid win for first (driving the '67 Camaro from Week 100), a tie-breaker for second resulted in Racer Z taking second and Phil, driving a dramatic red Hot Wheels Ferrari 360 Modena, third. A clerical mix-up left some doubt between the final qualifying spot being either Racer A or Rochelle, but ultimately A went on to the finals (wink, wink).

The finals, however, saw everything flipped, and in a surprise comeback from almost not even qualifying, Racer A took the blue ribbon!

Racer A and blue ribbon. Notice me and my clipboard.
A clipboard signifies proves I'm official.

I came in second, not too shabby considering the trouncing I took last year. In third was Racer Z, and in an unexpected upset, Phil, an early favorite to win, took Runner Up position, to be robbed of his chance at taking home a blue paper ribbon and instead taking home the less coveted green paper ribbon.

Racer Z and his third place ribbon. Pay attention to the ribbon,
not my hat.

Other awards besides the winner's circle were also presented, such as:

Youngest Racer:

Coolest Racer:

                                          And even a Super Slo-Mo award:

Other awards were given for :

Best Sport: Racer A

Happiest Racer: G

Biggest Crash: Racer Z

Interestingly, Racer A scored most of his wins not with a new, out of the package car, but with the below 1995 Hot Wheels Power Rocket, pulled from a giant toy box pile of Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars and of unknown origin. If you have kids with piles of cars, you'll understand. Cars just seem to show up there from who knows where.

The race was a success, and everyone had a great time. I've learned to catalog the participating cars and get a picture prior to the race, as some of the cars from this year have since returned to the car pile. We may never truly know all the models of cars that raced in 2012, but that's okay. In addition to excitement, the annual Daddy's Tiny Cars Race also provides mystery.

Additionally, track engineer Les and I are working on plans for an improved track. While I might like to see a four- or more lane track next year, I'm not sure about the logistics of scoring. Also, it would put more pressure on paying attention to the finish line, but with four tracks, we could squeeze in a lot more races! We'll see. Mattel, are you interested in a sponsorship?

Thanks to everyone not only present at the races but absent and virtual for supporting this blog diary into its third year. You all deserve a paper ribbon and a place on my clipboard.

Photo of my tiny Goodyear blimp provided by Phil Pekarcik, seen above with his green ribbon.