Nothing in the world has the impact on a young boy like the sound of a revving engine. The idea of owning a car one day seemed surreal at best. Growing up with my father's stories of drag racing in New Mexico and faint memories of seeing the turquoise 427 Galaxy, the initial impression had been made early. On most Sundays, I would walk up the block and watch the neighbor guy wash his metallic green Super Bee, complete with one of those cool orange 76 station balls on the tip of the antenna. As I watched him carefully suds, rinse, dry and wax, until I could see my reflection, I recall thinking to myself, "Wow, what a car!". It was not uncommon for my uncle (the one that my father raced with) to drive up Queen Ann hill in his orange and black Road Runner to visit. You see at that age fast cars seemed mystical, all the really cool cars were painted so different and had cartoon stickers or names. Even the aftermarket parts industry seemed somehow subculture. Products like Hooker Headers and Moon, they all had cool logos. To a small boy the similarity to the cool cars and a Hot Wheel collection bridged the gap between years. With a weekly allowance, for throwing trash and such, the Hot Wheels were affordable. When it was Christmas or birthday time a carrying case or assorted tracks always made it easy for the folks. So, with a little time I was able to assemble my own garage of cool cars and accessories. The lifestyle had begun - get up, check the cars, breakfast time, pull the cars out. After breakfast, get dressed for the day and head outside with the cars. The days were long with breaks only for lunch and chores, which earned me more allowance for more cars. The evening hours were spent watching cops and robber shows filled with action and plenty car chases! All the training that a junior hot rodder would ever need. Life was good. It was the spring of 1970 in Seattle, Saturday a great day to take all the Hot Wheels out to the front sidewalk while waiting for the folks to get ready. The sidewalk was a great place to play, on a good day neighbors would stop and ask questions about the cars. Giving me the grand opportunity to show my expertise in automobiles. On this particular morning the sidewalk action was slow, it was a bit early yet. The cars were all out, every one, clean and shining. Arranged in a straight line as if there was going to be a passing parade of horsepower. Frustrated that there were no curious passers-by to give a presentation to, the decision was made to seek out some grown ups that would surely be impressed with the display. I recall it as if it happened yesterday climbing up the concrete steps towards the house, stopping at the top only for a second to check the cars, continuing into the house and on to the kitchen, finally Dad. "Dad, come check out my cars!" The stage was set, the judges were on the way to examine the display, what a moment. Unable to control the anxiety, I rushed ahead realizing that if I was there first, I would have a better opportunity to present the line up and satisfy any possible questions that could arise. Focusing on the steps while descending to the street level was always required the steps were big and my legs were only half the size of just a single step. As I met the sidewalk, an eerie silence had overtaken the street, confused and still excited, the prior scene was not the same. Something was missing but it couldn't be, I was only gone for a minute. As many different emotions raced through my young mind, I can only imagine my father's thoughts as he watched his son and the looks on my face as I tried to make sense of what had just happened, how it happened and most of all why. Frantically looking up and down the street, not a person in sight. It began to come on like a dark rumbling cloud on a sunny day, this was it, the truth, dark reality, the end of the romance, the end of lifestyle, the end of the innocence. The cars were gone. Gone in 60 seconds. Thirty years later, I have found myself very much still attached to cars full size and 1/64 scale. This past year my second child was born, a boy! I have taken the liberty of helping him get his Hot Wheel collection started. He has some really nice cars. I actually started before he was born. I have them locked up and in their original cards. Dad has a few cars, too. If you know what I mean.

Michael Gonzales

Rio Rancho, NM