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Reaching Across Boundaries
05/13/2002
- There were three older ladies standing around
the Bin-O-Death at Wally World the other day when I stopped in. I
figured they were buying toys for their kids. Or maybe their
grandkids. So I went around the corner and started checking the pegs.
But while I was there, I couldn't help overhearing their conversation
as they went through the bin, looking at cars. It sounded extremely
familiar.
"Oooh I like this one!"
"Did you see a '64 ford? I used to have one of those>"
"Look at this! They call it a Hot Seat!"
"Ohhh! 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham!"
And then the clincher: "If I'm not careful, I'm gonna end up with a
buggy full of these things!"
Any collector would know where this was going. This was the sound of
people taking their first real look at these little toy cars and
liking. Really liking what they saw. They were admiring the different
castings and seeing them, not as things to be bought as disposable
toys, but as something they liked and wanted for themselves. They
didn't know anything about Treasure Hunts, or scalpers, or limited
editions, or web sites. They looked on every pegwarmer in the bin as
something new and fascinating, and desirable.
At this point I stepped in and told the ladies how, if they weren't
careful they could wind up with a whole basement full of these things.
They laughed and we had a good time talking about little cars and
collecting. They remembered growing up with Hot Wheels and orange
track, and I showed them the car I happened to have in my pocket; an
Odd Rod I had just gotten in trade. They thought it was fantastic. One
of the ladies asked me how I displayed mine, and I told her how many
people liked to keep them in the packages, but I open mine and line
them up on shelves. She gave me a look full of understanding and said,
" You've got to handle them, don't you?" I just grinned in response.
So there were were; three middle-aged black ladies and one
no-longer-young white guy, with nothing at all in common except that
we were all elbow deep in a bin full of little toy cars and we were
having a ball. I found a first edition ford Thunderbolt on a torn card
and handed it to the lady who had asked about '64 fords. She told me
her car had had a red interior, too. She thanked me and put it in her
buggy, smiling all the while.
Eventually, I had to get on to work and they had to finish up their
shopping. Each one of them left with five or six cars each; probably
for their children or grandchildren, but at least one or two for
themselves. I've got a feeling that from now on when they go shopping,
they will take a moment to peruse the pegs, or into the bin to see
what might catch their eye. And perhaps on their desks, or by their
terminals, or on the windowsill over the kitchen sink, a little 1:64
scale garage will start to grow, and who knows how big it might get.
That's the power of these little toy cars. They connect with our
memories of childhood, and our fantasies about our dream cars, and
ultimately, they become a way for the unlikeliest people to find
common ground.
I never cease to be amazed by the people attracted to this hobby, but
perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. All of us, male or female, lawyer or
mechanic, young or old, have grown up around cars and toys and toy
cars. Our very identity is wrapped up in the cars we drive, or the
cars we want to drive. While I doubt very seriously these ladies will
ever have a basement full of diecast, they understand why I do, and I
want to thank them, where ever they are, for a very pleasant
afternoon.
Keep it in scale.
- The Southern Gent--Raymond
McKee
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