A few weeks ago I posted some photos of our garden string beans that I posed with Matchbox vehicles. Several people commented about the Matchboxes and I thought I'd tell you about them today.
They're mine from childhood, which means late 50s into the 60s. I have no idea how these came to be treasured toys; maybe because we grew up with lots of male cousins and played with their cars? I'll have to ask my sister because we both had our own Matchboxes in identical cases. Let's look inside.
There are farm vehicles, like this combine, tractor, and wagon complete with bales.
The construction vehicles are some of my favorites. I used the snowplow to plow snow, put up the scaffolding in the Builders Supply truck, and connected the pipes to drain puddles.
The ambulances, police car, Coca-Cola truck, snack trailer, and garbage truck all performed valuable services in the Matchbox communities I built.
Then there are the cars with doors, hoods, and back hatches that open. The blue station wagon used to have a teeny, tiny hunting dog to go with the hunter, but he ran off somewhere over the last 50 years. I used to imagine that someday I would own a Mercedes, Rolls Royce, or cool convertible, but that has only happened with my Matchboxes.
I played with these fun ones a lot. Who wouldn't want a yellow convertible to tow their trailer and two boats to a vacation destination, and then hop on board a motorcoach to view the sights?
The roof of the trailer comes off to reveal a detailed kitchen and living room inside. I loved playing with all of them, and the detail, working doors and hoods, and little extra pieces only added to my enjoyment.
Many of the vehicles are marked with little green Bs on the underside, which means they are Bonny's and my sister Jill should not steal them. My sister and I both had our own Matchboxes, and we did play together and share, but I can also remember some epic fights about whose cars were whose. My mother painstakingly labeled all of our Matchboxes with Bs and Js from the Dymo label maker. I appreciated that as a child, and I appreciate all that tedious labeling even more as an adult.
They were fun 50 years ago and they still provide fun decades later. They are stored in my cedar chest, but I still play with them occasionally. What better way to deal with bumper crops from the garden (or tiny watermelons that won't grow any larger) than to dispatch all available Matchboxes and have a little fun?
Thanks for reading all the way through this picture-heavy post full of my childhood memories. Here's hoping your weekend includes a bit of the same spirit of fun.