What is the true significance of owning something as simple and miniscule as a die-cast car?
To some, it's nothing beyond the bounds of a household knick-knack that makes you yell and bawl at your children like a wild boar in a stampede, for stepping on them after preparing supper. To others, it's where after a specific point of time, the toys fail to captivate the interest of the beholder. This phase occurs when an innocent minded and studious elementary school pupil turns into a formidable, pus-filled, raging, tantrum throwing, teenager emitting a plethora of body odors. In this scenario, either that teenager gives them off as hand me downs to their younger brother or sister, or gives them away to charity as if they're an outgrown, malodorous torn up pair of rugby socks.
Not to me, however. Every single time I take any random car in my collection and gently lay it on the palm of my hand, I watch how gloriously it complements the lines in my palms. This everyday sight speaks to me of how palmists overlook how, for die-cast collectors, like me, the car is the missing piece of the puzzle. Because to me, it's the car that symbolizes my prosperity rather than a line crossing the dimensions of my palm.
A belief I hold dear to my heart is that the type of cars you collect is a reflection of not only your character, but also your background. A 1/87 scaled Rover P4 by Oxford (die-cast brand) may depict the owner to be a middle-aged Englishman, where the reason behind him buying it evokes a feeling of nostalgia, reminding him of the family trips in his dad's car rolling through the hills of Yorkshire. On the other hand, a simple plastic, unbranded die-cast car with the words “Made in China” imprinted on the bottom may belong to a child in a modest neighbourhood, who saved up small coins just to bring home something that fuels his imagination. Both cars, regardless of brand, price, or origin hold immense value to their owners. Every die-cast car, no matter its make, model, or background, is a reflection of its owner’s personal journey, taste in automobiles, appreciation for craftsmanship, and connection to memory.
Speaking of the economic aspect of things, the most successful die-cast car brand, and the one that's the most popular in my collection, is of course, Hot Wheels. Hot Wheels cars are affordable, well detailed, pleasant to own, and are an absolute joy to collect. In India, your average sidewalk toy shop would frequently sell an impostor of Hot Wheels, incompetently mimicking its legitimate counterpart, with its shell, interior and wheels composed entirely of the same plastic of a small container that my grandmother would use to store scraps and bones of leftover chicken vindaloo to feed the dog before he regurgitates the same mess on the carpet. Quite frankly, looking at it is oftentimes less excruciating than the disillusioned feeling of having a lot of excitement built up after seeing a nearby toy shop, which is then followed by a sharp feeling of disgruntlement and dissatisfaction, upon seeing these cheap imitations of Hot Wheels cars, like your heart is a fluorescently coloured piñata struck open by an angry toddler with a mini baseball bat. The motive behind the hyperbolization of this ruse is due to an instict of developing a feeling of cheeriness before entering a toy shop that has developed over the years of my childhood, and now when that instinct occurs, all I am met with is disappointment on account of how poor our country's stock of die-cast cars is today.
This is because in my early childhood, the types of cars that you'd find in stores like Hamleys or Crossword were so extraordinarily otherwordly. Quick rewind to the year 2010. I was in nursery at the time, or as you Americans like to call it, pre-school. It was my first encounter with the Hamleys at the High Street Phoenix Mall in Mumbai. This was actually the first Hamleys' toy store opened in South-East Asia on April 9, 2010. This particular visit was circa late 2010 or early 2011, so I was about three years old at the time. Upon entering, all I see is paradise. Several shelves of Hot Wheels cars, each only 89 Rupees at the time, as compared to 179-499 Rupees a piece today. Each of them were so detailed and so intricately painted, rendered and branded, all of which were older car models that fit to my current taste in cars. There were at least 2 aisles of cars and 2 aisles of tracks, but, of course, all I cared about was the cars.
I was like a caffeine addict in a Starbucks during happy hour. The store housed rows of die-cast brands whose cars are worth a fortune today. Brands like Hongwell that made 1/72 scale cars, New Ray that had a variety of scales with the biggest being 1/12 models and the smaller ones being 1/32 models, Maisto, Bburago, and Matchbox all making their debut in India. For three year old me, it was a momentary glimpse of heaven on earth. Me, my mother and my father had brought home a set of 6 1965 Mini Cooper cars with vintage rally racing liveries. This set is so rare now, that you will not find a single 6-set of any Hongwell cars in India. You might as well try to find a polite cab driver in Manhattan.
Today, I have approximately between 950-1,000 hot wheels cars in my collection. out of these, about 80 cars are carded and mostly in mint condition. 60% of these carded cars are a lot older than the remaining 40%. They're all from between 1994 and 2010, mainly due to the fact that I have a rather personal and special affinity with 1990's and 2000's culture, and a major part of this fondness is the cars from that era. Even something as elementary as the packaging of the cars of that era is a true sight to behold. The agglomeration of every shade of blue, white and black in the card art, the three-dimensional look to the logo that makes it look like it's risen from the card, ever so implicitly establishing its trademark which tells you that that little car made of plastic and metal three inches across is an artefact, a masterpiece to last for generations to come.
And what more could a car connoisseur like me ask for than hundreds of stunning little meticulously crafted pieces of art? In a distinctive way, I see almost each and every one of them as my children. Everytime I walk into my room, I observe my collection with pride and ecstasy. To me, it resembles a feeling preliminary to the one which I'll experience when the day I have a child or children of my own is beckoned to me.
To be continued...
