Hot Wheels, Driving Out of My House, But Not My Heart
Five Hot Wheels suitcases filled with 48 – 96 cars each, remained unplayed with for many years and stored in a basement closet. The chore of reclaiming valuable real estate space back in closets is long overdue. I am horrible at this task. With all of the kitchen gadgets, school art projects from long ago, future snow day activities, boxes of stuff family members thought they could store in my house, etc, the Hot Wheels were randomly chosen for the clutter purge.
More than a decade ago, when our son was three or four, I remember asking the pediatrician if our first born child was safely able to play with Hot Wheels. The wheels are little parts, a toddler issue. Yes, pediatrician signed off on Hot Wheels! This was so exciting! I remember my son standing in the red Target shopping cart and spending a lot of time picking out the most special Hot Wheels from the display racks. He had a meticulous process. We often repeated this outing. The Tooth Fairy brought Hot Wheels. Grandparents bought Hot Wheels. Everyone was into this. Hot Wheels were gifted as first day back to school presents. Packs of Hot Wheels were given as birthday and Hanukkah gifts. We accumulated a large collection.
I remember buying a carpet with road designs at the Home Depot and spending hours playing with my oldest son and his Hot Wheels. My son learned math with Hot Wheels: “If a Hot Wheel cost $1, we need 25 thousand Hot Wheels if we want to buy a real car.” We bought plastic orange race tracks and made courses around the living room. Imagination triumphed and we stayed away from electronics for a very long time. Hot Wheels went with us in the car. Hot Wheels were played with in bed. Hot Wheels were stuck in between the couch pillows. Hot Wheels went with us to restaurants. And, I don’t know when, but the Hot Wheels were relegated to the storage closet.
Recently, I ran into a friend and her two boys, ages 4 and 8, in a retail store. I whispered to her, “do your boys like Hot Wheels?” Yes, indeed! I found happiness discovering that these boys would give new life to our old treasures. Yet, I hoped that we had a secret stash somewhere in my sons’ room.
Days later, my daughters and I put the Hot Wheels in the car. When we arrived at the Hot Wheels’ new home, I randomly dumped the stuffed suitcases of cars into my trunk. I wanted to see them one more time. My daughter said, “Oh, you should not have done that! Please don’t cry.” I had flashbacks of memories from a lifetime ago.
I found a Lightning McQueen car (not Hot Wheels but my son’s first movie) and put that car in my pocket. I found a silver Mercedes which resembled my Mom’s old silver Mercedes. I put that in my pocket, too. I found two different taxis which reminded me of how much my son loved taxi cabs in New York City. So, I put two taxi Hot Wheels in my pocket. My daughter told me that it was time to put the hundreds of cars back in the recyclable bag or else the cars would end up coming back home, and we didn’t want that. She was right. I would have kept the Hot Wheels until my sons were married. They don’t want the cars now, they won’t want the cars later.
So, with dust bunnies and some loose hair strands, I parted with the Hot Wheels. The boys were good with this plan. I am proud of my first son who is starting high school next week and his younger brother who is starting middle school, they simply outgrew the Hot Wheels. May the boys who received these cars enjoy them at least as half as much as I did. It was the best dollar at a time that I ever spent.