Like Father, Like Son

When I was growing up, there was nothing cooler than Hot Wheels cars. Except for my older brother, Casey, and I, we weren't just into getting cars and zooming them around the room mindlessly. We were sophisticated with our cars, if you will. It's hard to convey exactly the lengths to which we "played" with our cars. We had everything: defined borders for the "countries" our cars lived in. Our bedroom, for example, was where the Hot Wheels cars lived. Our sisters (Bridget and Mary) lived in the land where Matchbox cars lived. Downstairs in the Family Room was the land of Yatming. Remember Yatming cars? I'm sure there were one or two other brands of cars (Corgi) that we had as well.

So, our primary play area was our bedroom where the Hot Wheels cars resided. We organized a government for our cars and had appointed leader cars. I believe the President of our little car world for some time was Turismo. The coolest of the cool cars we had on our little playset were supposed to be in a gang. This gang kind of ran the show behind the actual President Turismo.

President Turismo (Hot Wheels)

One of the coolest of these "gang members" was Hot Bird, (pictured below). He was also the star lead-off hitter on what became perhaps our greatest childhood creation: Car Baseball. We split up our cars by their brand into about 5 or 6 teams and organized a season schedule, playoffs, and championship for about 3 years straight.

Hot Bird

Using just the tip of a Crayola crayon which we would cut off with scissors and smooth the edges of, we created our "baseball." From there, we picked the team we would play as and set up our bedroom with outfield walls until we had the best possible playing field. It was fun right up until we had to decide who was going to win or lose. Ultimately, there were heated endings to these games which left one of us fuming until the next game. These games took on a few interesting looks when we played games in the girls' room, the backyard, or the Family Room. Anyhow, we had a blast.

Used for more than just mere coloring.

PALM BEACH

Perhaps the greatest player in our car baseball league was a Hot Wheels car (GMC Motor Home) which Casey and I named Palm Beach (see the side of the car?). He hit home runs like Babe Ruth on steroids. He was the gang's enforcer and unquestioned leader. To put it simply, he was "The Man."

In fact, I'm pretty sure that our escapades after a ball game led to my parents confiscating our collection of cars one afternoon. And they were gone for months with Casey and I having no clue of their whereabouts. We must have somehow redeemed ourselves, or simply forced our parents to give in, because one afternoon my mom revealed to us the secret location of our collection: the back corner of her closet. We lost it. There was a jubilant celebration that afternoon as we played and played with those cars. We named that day - December 28, 1984 - PALM DAY - after you-know-who and every year since have remembered it. This year will be the 25th anniversary of that magical day, in fact!

When we finished a ball game, or a rumble, or even a football game with our cars, they were put away into a cardboard box. This we called the Lava Pit, and don't ask me why. From time to time, we assembled our cars - every single last one of them - into some kind of massive conference. I can't even remember what the point of it was, other than to say that our cars - hundreds of them - would be lined up over the entire length of the floor of our bedroom. This ancient Matchbox dump truck that we called "The Father of All Cars" was at the head of the conference of cars. I imagine there might have been religious overtones even within our car universe. It was definitely complicated.

And don't even have me start on the time Casey and I discovered a Hot Wheels car (Formula One) in our backyard, buried in the dirt by our plum tree. Oh, the stories we made up about the horrible plane crash he survived. We made the TV program "Lost" years ahead of its time.

So, much to my surprise, the other night I came downstairs to find Will sitting on the coffee table in front of his collection of cars that I've supplied him with for the past two years. And lo and behlod, Mr. I-have-a-place-for-everything Himself has his cars, (bless his heart) organized into neat rows and believe me, do NOT try to rearrange them. No, make that, TOUCH them. I love it!Yes, Misters is quite the fan of cars at the moment. These aren't just your ordinary Hot Wheels cars. This is the collection of NASCAR die-cast vehicles that I collected from about 2001-2004 when I just got everything in sight, NASCAR, and not just specifically Jeff Gordon items. But Will can describe their colors, numbers, and he has them categorized and classified by size and function: dump trucks, emergency vehicles, big race cars (1:24) and little race cars (1:64). Now, if I can just get him to name the NASCAR drivers of the vehicles, right?

Anyhow, I thought I would thoroughly embarrass myself and share my childhood memories of playing with cars. It's fun to see how much enjoyment Will has with cars! Maybe one day we can resurrect our baseball league of old.