Toy Traveling

Can't beat Duke on passport security detail.

I do most of my toy shopping on eBay. 'Most' being an understatement. I'd put it more at 99%. But every once in a while this little African kid leaves Mother Africa in a big jet plane and subsequently loses his mind. And since my work often has me overseas, this blessing and curse is happening with the frequency of Dr Who whipping out his Sonic Screwdriver. Trawling the 'bay is one thing; but encountering toys you actually can't live without in the flesh is something else. Restraint becomes a foreign concept. And buying in person means you pay only face price- there is no postage cost lurking ominously around to hemorrhage your credit card some more. But a new challenge emerges. To score any kind of advantage by buying overseas you engage in a delicate balancing act. Airline baggage limitations are no joke, and if you tip the scales you might wind up paying more than the equivalent postage cost in overweight charges. And that is quite shit.

Another issue is space. Fitting your loot into your luggage can present a problem when purchasing larger items. Like an AT-AT.

Or a Millennium Falcon.

Okay. The second picture is a cunning photoshop-job. But in 2009 I did in fact travel to Shanghai and within the first two days had located and become smitten with the updated (and outrageous) 2.5 foot long Falcon. I checked that puppy into the hold, and not the ones used for smuggling, neither. I came in under my weight limitation and fortunately I was permitted two items of hold luggage. The only snag I hit was trying to go through customs on the South African border with a very big and very new looking box. Made worse by the fact that the price sticker was still applied proclaiming the price at RMB1800.

That value, plus the value of the Masterpiece Optimus Prime, Masterpiece Grimlock and assorted other treasures would have had the South African Revenue Service tax my ass off for importing valuable goods without declaring them. What was I to do? I was trapped.

But with some quick thinking, slippery Steve thought to blag that all the prices were in Thai Baht (I had stopped over in Thailand, fortunately). So out came the officer's trusty currency conversion chart. And I was in the clear.

If you're left scratching your head, fear not. I'm being as vague as an author of my mediocre pedigree can be. Five Thai Baht will get you 1 Chinese Yuan. And on that scale, in the eyes of the Revenue Officer my score wasn't worth batting an eyelid. And who's to say you can't buy a 2.5 foot scale model of the Millennium Falcon for approximately 80 US Dollars? No-one queried my practiced chicanery and just like that...

... I was gone.

The AT-AT was more straightforward. But I did have to turf out a goodly number of t-shirts and shoes to fit it. I hope the matron at my hotel found a good use for the second-hand threads. They weren't all from the C-list.



My last trip's luggage looked like this:

But contained this:

I was slightly overweight, but I charmed the pants off the woman at the check in desk and got away with it. That's how I'm gonna remember it, in any case.

So I've been doing this for some time now and I consider myself a bit of an authority. I feel no shame carting a 1988 Tiger Fly through check-in, long lines, security checks, frisks, x-rays, immigration, customs, boarding... all the while with kids wanting to poke my vintage toy and adults wanting to poke fun.

Can you spot the vintage toy-fan? I long for someone to come up to me in a departure lounge and have a full-blown conversation about the cool vintage toys I'm smuggling. But I'm not holding my breath.

 As I sit in my Cardiff hotel room tonight, I face what could be the biggest stretch of my career.

Tomorrow I am going into town to visit Forbidden Planet. And at this particular Forbidden Planet, oh object of my desire, they have the oh-so-sweet Star Wars Vintage Collection Slave 1. That's Boba Fett's craft. It's also an Amazon exclusive of a year and a bit back, so it fetches a hefty price these days. And hefty is the word, as she's a big 'un and a weighty lump of plastic. Sensibly I packed light on this trip. But I've had to laden myself with gear I stashed at my brother's house from the last time I visited England. And I only stashed that stuff (heavy winter jackets, I'll add) in order to make space for the haul in the above picture. So I am suffering from the knock-on effect of my last trip and not loving it. Does that throw my Slave 1 chances into jeopardy? Add to that the fact that I'm not exactly getting it for a song, it's on a par with eBay prices, less the postage of course. And the biggest misfortune yet, my return airline has a weight limitation of only 20 kilograms! That's 44 pounds and that ain't much.

I'm screwed.

So tough decisions have to be made tomorrow. I'll let you know if I went through with it. And if so, how I went through with it.  

Fathers' Day

It just occurred to me the last article I posted was called "Easter". Now it's "Fathers' Day". Explanation? I'm home, and not going anywhere for the first time in... gosh, five years? As much as that? Anyway, being in your hometown and surrounded by family you tend to gauge your life by calendar events; this is something nomads, orphans and Somali pirates might not share. But I am a 29 year-old manchild. And not Somalian.

So what memory does Fathers' Day stir up? And how can I tenuously link it to my obsessive love of GI Joe? Well, none really. No, dear reader, there were no GI Joes to be had on Fathers' Day. That would not make much sense. Instead I want to share a story about my old man.

It was 2003, I was nineteen and thanks to my job as a stripper in gay bars I could support my GI Joe hobby on my own. I had another hobby back then called Hip Hop Dance, and I used to do this Hip Hop Dance at competitions in the backwater halls of our nation. Not something a father with a love of rugby would necessarily rush to support. But he did, because I was his boy and he loved me. Aw.

But on this particular day, the Hip Hop Dance competition was happening in a corner of South Africa time forgot called Parow East. And for this GI Joe fan, Parow East had the notoriety for being the suburb where Factory Toys (that's the shop's name) resided. And Factory Toys is where I bought my Arctic Blast, Thunderclap, Sky Raven and Tomahawk decades after those toys' initial release.

Oh, yes, and I got a RADAR Rat.

Woo.

Hoo.

Stuck in the dingy Parow East Civic Center doing Hip Hop Dance, I couldn't very well pop in. But I was pretty sure at that stage I had successfully exhausted their GI Joe dead stock years prior. So I wasn't too cut up. But that good man I call dad nipped off to the store and came back with a plastic packet of vintage Joe goodness. He didn't have to. Strippers in gay bars make good enough dosh to buy their own toys.

In any case, I had been there recently enough and passed up all they had on offer as being undesirables. You know the kind - Star Brigade armored figures and the good ol' Battle Corps figures. But that didn't matter one jot. Dad had brought his now adult son action figures. Because he is a good and sweet and kind dad. And what he said as he handed over the loot are words I will never forget for as long as I live:

"I bought you some GI Joes my boy," and, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice, no doubt in case there were any agents of Cobra within earshot, he said:

"And one of them is a General."

I love that man. I could start listing his qualities. But I'll resist for no reason other than a fear of going against my blog's mission statement. But this guy, this man's man, had no reservations about indulging his son's oddball habit. And doing it not only without judgement, but with enthusiasm.

I love you Oubaas.

The swag, in case you were wondering:

Easter

So what is this all about really? Easter is first and foremost a religious celebration. That ain't my shtick. Beyond that, it's about hunting for chocolate eggs, typically made from the lowest grade of chocolate you're likely to get. All the images of bunny's, chickens and or course, eggs are supposed to have some relevance to the beginning of spring and rebirth and newness and life. But to a kid living in the Southern Hemisphere, Easter is naturally a time when you start feeling a slight chill in the air. So that's out. If nothing else, it's an excuse to get the family and friends together and have a roast or a 'braai' (South African BBQ) because it is of course in many parts of the world a long weekend. But for this writer, Easter had a GI Joe connection and that is why Easter will always be cherished, even if only with nostalgia.

Now it was customary in my house for their to be a little something extra in your chocolate pile. Nothing too substantial- it isn't a birthday or Christmas. But a carded GI Joe figure fit the bill perfectly each year. Or Dino Riders two-pack. Remember those? I think I have Easter to thank for my original HEAT Viper, all those years ago.

But the memory I cherish most fondly was perhaps the most notorious of all GI Joe pegwarmers my mother happened upon: Voltar.

This guy had the dubious honour of being Destro's General. An honour made more dubious by the fact that he required a fuchsia uniform to carry out his duties. Which is a pity because it masked a top notch sculpt. But it was on one fine Easter Sunday morning that this guy found his way to me. And that's all it takes to make me one happy boy.

It was not meant to last however. I don't know if Voltar was more frail than other GI Joes of the time; perhaps the gold plastic used for his accessories were more brittle than accessories cast in other colours, but before the figure's ultimate retirement:

The feet of his animal companion vulture fell out and were lost;

The bar on the backpack on which said vulture could perch had cracked off and disappeared;

The lenticular sticker on the backpack absconded. Funny that on the yojoe.com page for the figure, their sticker is similarly absent;

The barrel of his gun snapped off and disappeared;

Voltar's crotch broke off and fell away, leaving him to be "Destro's Fuchsia Eunich", or "Destro's Castrato in the key of Hot Pink";

The weak gold paint used for his helmet had rubbed away to the point where his head was flesh-tone with a few gold highlights. Now that is a freaky looking noggin, let me tell you.

And ultimately Voltar's o-ring snapped. Back then, my limited grasp of figure construction (and how to work a screwdriver) meant that the figure got binned. Yes. I threw Voltar away.

...and that was the tale of Voltar.


What does this all mean? Well, I guess it's to say that while other people connect how they styled their hair to a specific period in their life; or remember what they were doing by what car they were driving, where they were living, who they were dating; I will always make associations between a period in my life and what toys I was into at the time. And I know I'm not alone. But just know forever more that for a certain blogging, podcasting, YouTube reviewing GI Joe fan out there, Easter and Voltar will forever be linked.

Happy Holidays.

eBay Rant

Whoo boy, I gotta get this all down while I still have all this booze, adrenaline and blind rage in me. I was on eBay tonight.

But then again, I'm on eBay every night. Every day. All the time. It's a sickness I've developed.

I have also developed certain beliefs in ways to corner better deals.

First, buy local. If ever I am in the northern hemisphere for work or play, having items shipped to me there is a great way to save on postage. Also if the auction does not allow for international shipping, it's a great way to cut down competition. For example, a seller in the UK who only ships to the UK will spare you all the competing Yanks.

Second, search general. You'll get fewer competing bids on misnamed or poorly categorized items.

Third. Snipe like a motherfucker. That means, don't bid early. In the age of high speed internet when you can literally watch the seconds tick off that timer in real time, why bid before the final ten seconds? I became an eBay user (eBuser?) in the age of dial up. Meaning you'd dial up once to bid the day before and once again to check if you won or not. Sniping involves going in fast, going in once, and going in big. Yeah. You heard right.

For a week I have watched an auction. It was located in the UK. It was available only to buyers in the UK. It was poorly named. I was gonna snipe it like a motherfucker. It was Tiger Force Outback and it was love.

So I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more. I went to sleep most nights that week looking at that figure. I woke up most mornings and the first thing I looked at was the auction. It only had this to compete with.

So did I win? Are you expecting a tale of sadness and heartbreak? Did I win?

Yes. Of course I won. I'm a master sniper with more experience than sense... if that makes any sense. I went in with an initial limit of 16 quid.

Within the last ten seconds I was outbid. Crushing.

I countered by putting in a competing bid of a whopping 22.50 Pound Sterling. And at the closing bell I was the leading bidder at £21. Stoke.

It was no longer a bargain bin price, but I didn't care. The sweet syrup of victory was pouring out of my ears. Just ask my girlfriend. She was napping in my lap at the time and got syruped. To combat my morning-after, inevitable buyers remorse, I Paypal-ed my payment immediately. Haggered, 25 Pound poorer, but virtuously virtually victorious, I retired to the last half of a Man United/Liverpool game (since when do I actually watch football?)

But before I could shake off my rushing post-bid emotions, I received this:

I swear, not even 20 minutes before the close of auction this shit-for-brains had refunded my money and shunted my prize off to the runner-up. Didn't think to contact me first about the 'confusion'. Rather just cut me out of the loop completely, the fuckwit. Then, try to convince me it was my fault for not contacting the seller up front about where the item should be sent to, when in actual fact my default address has been in the United Kingdom for over two months! I have had eight parcels sent there over the last two months with no confusion. No additional communication to clarify. Nada. So this D-bag unilaterally decides to cancel my righteous victory? You know what I say to that?

And you best believe this pimple on the face of humanity had 100% positive feedback before she crossed me.

Rant done.

NINTENDO

GI Joe. Nintendo. Two words that take me back to a very much simpler and very happy time. Videogaming and action figures were at the center of my childhood. I'd argue that most kids would play videogames all day and only got out the shoebox of action figures when mom told them to "switch off the television before your eyes got square". You're full of it mom. The 30 year-old me would have a thing or two to say to the 8 year-old me, because that is some righteous B.S right there. I ain't no squared-eye, twitchy, Nintendo addict, dammit!

My priorities were always the toys though. I was the kid who would dabble in a videogame or two merely for inspiration before turning my attention to my action figures to act out the action. Them oldskool games were as good a place as any to offer a jump-off point for your back yard adventures as any TV show, film, or book. If you are reading this, maybe you tell a similar tale.

Perhaps it was my ineptitude at getting anywhere in those old 8-bit shooters. Granted, I was rubbish. But they were all massively challenging tests of minuscule hand-eye co-ordinations. Helluva unforgiving too. Once your 'continues' were exhausted, it was back to the title screen for you.

Another factor was the abundance of titles. By the time I was old enough to play Contra, Mario, Islander, Double Dragon or whatever, my friends and I were spoiled for choice. With our pooled collections, you would seldom sit down with one game and 'clock' it to completion; you would hop from cartridge to cartridge with impatient zeal. The games were simplistic, with an easily understood playing style and objective, and you pretty much got all you wanted out of it within the first two or three levels. There was no multi-layered storyline pulling you along. No major cut-scene payoff if you beat the last boss. You were lucky if you were greeted with a new graphic and some text after completion. Some of my greatest disappointments had to have been witnessing the completion of a game followed by no more fanfare than a return to the beginning, with a slightly increased skill setting. BOOOOORING.

But give me a game were the player and enemies are all existing GI Joe toys and I am immediately transfixed. Taxan's GI Joe was such a thing of rare beauty for me. Holy shit. It was an unremarkable shooter, but will be remembered with legendary status by this fan. I hear the theme tune, and all of a sudden I'm an 8 year-old again. I'd play with GI Joe on the TV, then with my figures in the garden, then back on the TV, then on the kitchen counter, the couch, the pool...

...I'm not 8 anymore. I'm a nigh 30 manchild. I still proudly play with my Joes when life isn't pushing down too hard. You want proof? Here you are.

Level 1: The Amazon

Level 2: Antarctica

Level 3: New York Sewers

     

Korea!

So I'm in the Republic of Korea. For two and a half months. In winter. As one does.

This place is a dead zone as far as GI Joe is concerned, hardly surprising as post-Retaliation GI Joe market presence seems less than zero. Add to that the fact that this place is a dead zone for action figures in general. Hardly any superhero toys is Toys R Us, in spite of a large section advertising superhero toys... The products available typically only get as far as those ridiculous Spidey (half) masks. You're not fooling anyone kiddo. Less so if you're running around with a canister of silly string strapped to your forearm.

If I was a Gundam fan I'd be in Nirvana.

That's Nirvana in the Buddhist sense.

Just checking.

 Hell, if I was hard to the 1.5 billion Power Ranger knock-offs Ban Dai is responsible for, I'd be similarly happy.

They're colourful, sweet toys. And no points for guessing whether Red Ranger is the most popular or not.

There are also a few decent Transformers to be had. And being in the East always gets my Transformers-itch scratch-worthy. Something about blind boxes and additional surprise accessories get me giddy.

Not to mention the ready availability of the Masterpiece Black Convoy. If that means nothing to you, it's essentially the most premium format of Optimus Prime but done in black and affiliated to the Decepticons. And it's notable Youtube Transformer reviewer Thew's best TF of 2013. So it should be aaaaight. I found an F-86 Sabre in the 1/18 scale done by a company called Merit. It's worth buying, and will forever be linked to GI Joe for me as Hawk pilots one in issue 3 of the original Marvel Comics run. I love it when the most technologically advanced fighting force of the 1980's is forced to use outdated equipment and vehicles. It also happens to be my favourite jet in fact.

Dang. As I write this my need for purchasing that model grows. I don't anticipate it'll be cheap.

But after two weeks this is all I can report on the Seoul toy scene. Nothing approaching the proliferation of new toys, weird nik naks and vintage goodness you'd find before too long in places like Singapore and Hong Kong. It's a good thing I brought some friends.

Anticipating a drought, I packed some old and a few newer ones. The winter setting prompted me to bring my very old Ice Viper along. He was definitely one of my first ten figures from ARAH. He's accompanied by the '85 Snow Serpent I actually only got last year. Two Cobra Officers to call the shots, and a Frag Viper. Why a Frag Viper? Because he showed up in the snow level of the 1990 Taxan videogame of course! And you know who else showed up in that level?


BLIZZARD

 This guy fell into obscurity. Snow Job is the memorable one, thanks mainly to the Sunbow Cartoon. Iceberg also has Sunbow to thank for some notoriety. They turned him into an Orca and stuff. Sub Zero got some DIC love. But Blizzard fell between the two eras and all he has for exposure is the old 8-bit sidescroller, in which he was a bit of a one-trick pony. He shone in the one ice level where he led the three-man team and was as a result a compulsory character. But his stats excelled in nothing and like the arctic troops in our collections he did not leave the toy box very often. A pity really. Because he's the coolest of the lot.

ARAH was not big on figure customisability. There was one figure with webgear. Only one with a removable functional holster. The extent of changing the physical appearance was typically backpack or no backpack. And what gun you placed in the hand. If you were lucky, the helmet was removable. And it's that latter category that Blizzard stands alone.

 Snow Job was a fine figure, if a little basic. The same is true of his more detailed replacement, Iceberg. But none have removable helmets. It's damaging to a figure in a sense when they always look like they mean business. Sometimes the most suspenseful play consisted of the down time between missions. Day to day, base stuff. I want to see my protagonist's eyes, dammit!

The figure is a very satisfying, more so than his predecessors I'd say. The torso has a good heft to it because of the padded snow jacket. A sculpted hood is displayed in it's rolled down condition. Which is nice as removing a helmet only to reveal a hooded head is something that should be reserved for Cobra forces (30th anniversary Airtight, I'm looking at YOOOOO!). He's got an appealing mix of colours which serve to bring out the details - if you could unclip his knife and sheath, web belt, knee and thigh pads he'd be clad in a plain white ski suit with a caramel streak down the front. There's a little vanilla in the form of a polar bear and lightning bolt insignia on his left shoulder. He's got the determined look of a dedicated operative who means business. No goofy grin or outrageous sculpted facial fuzz. Its a winning sculpt.

See the sculpted loop next to his canteen? The hole in the loop is brought out by white paint. Yes pilgrims, the designers were so intent on that detail that they sanctioned a daub of paint for it. White paint on a white Joe. Who cares right? Well, I can't help but be both stupefied and impressed.

But my favourite bit of scupting has got to be the gauntlets. Left wrist has a chunky timepiece or maybe a compass and both sides have padding on the back of the hand. Don't know what it's for, but I've always liked the look of them. Another mystery would be the pads on the thighs. The same pattern is repeated on the right bicep. It appears to be a grille. Perhaps he can open the pads to get some cool air into the suit if he's really exerting himself and needs to cool down. I've got a snow jacket with unzippable vents, but nothing resembling a raised black grille. Mysterious!

The accessories tick almost all the boxes and even include a gimmick. He's got skis; he's got snowshoes. Both can be mounted on his backpack for storage, at the same time. He has an uzi with a stock and an extended barrel and an oversized Colt .45 and both are done in white plastic with sculpted camo bindings. I take issue with this approach, particularly on the .45 as wrapping it in white cloth would surely interfere with the slide's action, causing the gun to jam? Even the bolt on the Uzi might become interrupted if a piece of rag gets trapped in there. But as far as camo is concerned, you could poke either of these weapons out from under your blind and not likely be detected... until it was too late. The helmet is an attractive sculpt which looks like it has a built in radio headset and will keep Blizzard's nose from freezing. I imagine if the temperature really dipped, he'd pull the sculpted hood over his head, seal it tightly, and wear the helmet over that. But I'm still glad he's sculpted this way.

As mentioned, the figure has a gimmick, like so many of the figures of his era. It's centered around the backpack. The skis and snowshoes peg into both front and back of the pack, depending on your preference. But when you attach the ski's to the backpeg side, the backpack's true purpose is revealed.

It's a rocket-powered toboggan.

With two separate (and easily lost) throttle handles complete with brake handles (are you saying this thing has a braking system?), a padded seat (?), a rocket exhaust engine and even armament in the form of a sculpted gun and what appears to be a grenade launcher, it's a one-man arctic ONSLAUGHT!

Er, not quite.

If you ask me this was a bit of piss poor design that cost the figure. Blizzard would be perfectly serviceable and perhaps better off with a standard white backpack for survival goodies and ski/shoe storage. But he forgoes such sensibilities by rocking up with this. Apart from robbing him of much needed arctic supplies, the primary criticisms of this thing are thus:

The deck isn't long enough. When he is grasping the handles, the lower half of his body is over the edge of the surface.

The underside of the skis sit higher than the backpeg. So wherever you go, you'll be grinding away at that peg.

The rocket exhaust is right below Blizzard's nuts. With temperatures cold enough to give you a second bellybutton, you might think that's a bonus. You'd think that for a precious few seconds before your guys get singed to a painful, blistered mess. That is, if you aren't already on fire by then.

Blizzard was a toy that always fascinated me as a child. No-one I knew owned him. Maybe it was the stigma of snow-toys in a country that seldom if ever saw snow, and certainly not enough to play in sufficiently. But I always wondered how the backpack would form some kind of mini-vehicle. I know how now. And boy was it a letdown. But ignore the gimmick. In spite of it, this is still my favourite snow Joe. I recommend him over gingerbeard, Orcaman and ... damn, can't think of a funny handle for Sub Zero. But Blizzard is better 'an him.

Fin.

   

AWE Striker

I passed this toy up for a very long time.

The reasons, if I can recount them and marvel at their absurdity were the following:

1. It looked like a little toy buggy;
2.  It only held a driver and single passenger; 
3. It had one gun and not a great deal of features.

Allow me to obliterate these points one by one. Firstly, to say it looked like a little toy buggy is to level criticism at one of it's greatest advantages. It is small, powerful and compact. And in the final analysis, perfectly scaled. It's not suffering from the oversizing that one could argue the Ferret does, being a quad bike with similar dimensions to a VW Beetle. Don't get me started on that other stalwart of Honey I Blew Up The Toy, the Deadnok Cycle. It'll devastate ya.

The AWE Striker scales well with other Joe vehicles of the time and occupies a vital niche as a very light two-man all terrain vehicle. You could jam four of these comfortably into a C-130. Even a Chinook or Osprey could deploy them. And thanks to Chap Mei, we have such toys.

Point #2 is a bit trite. But a fair argument. When you're in the market for a jeep, you want to be able to transport four figures at the least, right? For a long time that is why I always vetoed the AWE Striker in favour of something like the Desert Fox 6WD. Well guess what, if you are in a bind and need to ferry a four man squad in or out of a combat zone, the AWE Striker still delivers. Broad side sills with footpegs offer room for troops and gear.

 Hell, they can even have a seat on the mudguards and hang onto the antenna mounts for dear life. Granted, the Striker is gonna start looking a little crowded, but it's all part of it's very utilitarian design, and I like the look of a laden AWE Striker.

Number three is the most ignorant of all the dismissals of this beauty. For its size, the sheer number of design elements is staggering. Working from front to back,

Clear plastic lights. Gorgeous touch there, and one that didn't stick around much passed 1985. A hallmark of that year's toys like the Snowcat, Silver Mirage and Moray.

Real working front suspension and turning front wheels. Both function supremely well, and without springs. They are robust functions and look and feel like the real thing. Already this is shaping up to be a beautifully designed and intricate toy folks.

Highly detailed crew section. The steering wheel has the look of an aircraft yoke. Or Kitt. But it doesn't turn. Wouldn't be able to with a figure's legs in the way anyway.

 

The gun cam offers a plausible way to control the top mounted recoilless cannon.

The VAMP's turrets were always a head scratcher and the comic inconsistently placed a gunner behind it sometimes; other times not. Here we see a successful attempt to explain remote control of a turret - the crewman lines a target up with the camera, hits that 'fire' button, the target 'goes away'. The fact that they design incorporates the infamous black hose to link the camera and gun is pure vanilla.

Rear suspension. While slightly less successful than the front, it's a welcome inclusion. It's not quite as springy as there is more weight at the rear of the vehicle, so I feel some extra friction is needed to raise the chassis up a bit more and beat the sag. The removable engine cover is a Joe standard at this point in the line. 

What is not standard however is the completely removable engine. Brilliant.

 And if you thought that was cool and clever, only two years later we received a mobile workshop diorama complete with spare engine.

Now that's some impressive synergy.

Because of the added loop for Greased Lightnin' crane action, you can't snap the cover in place. Meh. 

I love so much about this vehicle. There is so much to love. The forethought and attention to detail that has been focussed into this diminutive piece of toy perfection never ceases to amaze me. There is even joy in the mundane. The wheels are two-piece with green hubs and dark grey tyres. That's pretty standard up to 1985. But unlike the VAMP or APC, the Striker's tyres aren't hollow. And get this, since they're not molded onto squeaky metal axles, you can remove and interchange them. The perfect toy? Quite possibly.

Crankcase is another gem. An infinitely better figure to Clutch in molding and paint apps (FANTASTIC gold Eagle belt buckle, and silver Pegasus design on his sleeve). He will sadly always occupy a place in obscurity. Hence no picture. I'm spiteful like that. And so is Clutch. Clutch will never relinquish his spot as the Joe's most memorable wheelman;

and also Crankcase is dead.

But he's a pretty sexy looking corpse of a figure, let me just say.

And his rifle is possibly one of my favourite vintage weapons. And they gave it to a vehicle driver?! That's how cool GI Joe was in 1985.  Look how sexily it fits into the basket on the side:

Crankcase can totally wield that big old battle rifle left handed if he wants to. Because he's hard.

And dead.