Plastic model cars.
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I don't fully remember where I learned what bits I
know  about  building  plastic  models.   Probably
reading, as it's a hobby  that's solitary to me. I
once had  some friends  who did  this too,  but we
never  really  talked  about it  back  then.   But
anyways, I can write down some thoughts and tips I
have, and  maybe gradually  more as they  occur to
me.

Way back, I used to race in slot car clubs. It was
fun to hang out and the racing was exciting, but I
think I enjoyed tinkering with the little cars and
painting their bodies just as much. And so after I
quit  all  that,  I  started  building  stationary
plastic model car kits instead.

I built this  wooden box with a lid,  to keep safe
all my  tools and paints  and scraps and  bits and
stuff. It's made of thin  plywood pieces and has a
small baseboard  molding around  the lid  edges so
that  it fits  nicely  around  sides.  Sanded  and
stained a clear golden sort of color.

Working on  model cars was  a thing I could  do at
home, in  the few free  minutes I could  find here
and there. I could go as slow as I felt like. That
was important when we had the baby.

The funny thing  about going slow at  a thing like
this, working in bits and pieces where you can, is
that it's still not slow  enough. When you work in
bits  here and  there, you  want to  do something,
even just a bit, but  planning doesn't feel like a
thing. And so somethings you do things in an order
that's  harder,  because  you're  working  through
disconnected little packets of time and you forget
the bigger picture. Maybe that's just me, but it's
still something that's hard.

I did a kit of an 80's chevy, and a 50s chevy, and
an austin mini. I would  finish one, keep it a few
months,  and   then  I  would  throw   it  in  the
garbage. Some people keep  their work forever. Not
me. I don't want a shelf of dusty stuff what's all
done. It's the process that I enjoy.

I started in on a big rig. But then we had another
baby, and I  put my box away and  I stopped taking
it out.  For  some years, I always  told myself it
was because there was no  time. But now I'm not so
sure about that.  There's  going to be 15 minutes,
some days.  But  you get tired, or  you find other
stuff to fill that.  Pulling out that box of stuff
even to paint just one little part, that's a habit
I  can make.  I had  it once,  and I  can have  it
again.

To  me, building  a plastic  model car  is like  a
coloring  book,  one   of  those  paint-by-numbers
deals. But it's not on a page, it's 3-D. It's sure
a  lot less  pressure  to  color something  that's
already figured  out, than  to sit  in front  of a
blank canvas or a chunk of wood.

Not too many things in life are like: follow these
here  instructions  carefully  and  you'll  get  a
decent result. But building a model kit is kind of
like that. Maybe that's why  I like doing it. That
kind of narrowness, it's a nice change of pace.

Miniatures have always been  fascinating to me for
whatever  reason.   It   can't  be  that  unusual.
Dioramas.   Vehicles.  Animals.   Figurines.  Snow
globes.  Toys. One time in a big museum, I saw all
these little clay people someone made, hundreds or
thousands of years ago  in south america.  I guess
there's always been people who like this stuff.

I wish  I could one  day be one of  those oldsters
with the whole-room train set. But that needs some
serious  money.   And  time. And  skills.   And  a
room. I  lack most  of these. But  I can  still do
what I do, and I like  it just fine.  I have space
for a box.

I like  doing cars the  best. I'm not a  car buff,
not really, although I do enjoy a good looking car
or truck. Or  even a bad looking  one, maybe those
even more so.

You  know, I  don't  even much  like driving  real
cars, and I'm not that good  at it. I try to avoid
it, and I think that's  made me even worse. But my
situation and my family's needs have always pushed
me into driving  at least to some  degree. And you
know people sure can get  sore at those of us with
limited  skills,  in  something  they're  so  very
polished  at  themselves.   It's like  they  don't
remember what it's like to  be shaky and slow at a
thing, and there's just no grace.

I don't really do philosophy, and I don't know it.
But one time I heard of this idea of a simulacrum.
A model car must be a simulacrum in the sense that
it  is   an  reproduction,  a   representation  of
something real,  and it  becomes something  of its
own.  But then there is  this idea of a simulacrum
as something  "hyperreal".  It makes my  head hurt
when I try  to read what that word  means.  Best I
can gather  is that  it means a  representation of
something, but that something never existed in the
first place.  And  so maybe if I change  a model a
whole lot,  so that it  does not look like  a real
car   that  ever   existed,  that's   a  hyperreal
simulacrum?  Like if I  took huge truck wheels and
put  them on  a hatchback,  chopped the  roof, and
added a big blower to it.  I'm building a model of
wild  hot-rod, but  only as  a plastic  model: the
never  was  such  a  hot  rod  made  in  the  real
world. It would  be a model of a  thing that never
existed.

But I know for some people, model can stand in for
something important  to them, something  they feel
strongly  about. You  know,  whether  it's a  good
thing  or   a  bad   thing,  vehicles   are  about
everywhere in  the places  where I've  ever lived.
Where  there's people,  there's  cars.  It's  like
houses, or  fences. In the most  basic stories and
patterns of life, when you boil them down to their
bones, there's  a beginning, a middle  and an end.
And there's often a  journey.  You go someplace, a
thing happens, and then  you go home changed.  And
that going, and the  coming home, unless the story
is quite old then that  part's often got a vehicle
in it.   Whatever happened, whoever  that happened
with, however  that made  you feel, all  that real
stuff is going  on right up next to  a vehicle, in
some  sense.   And  maybe that's  why  people  get
feelings  from about  cars.  Because  the car  was
right there  too, and  maybe some of  that emotion
gets tied  up with it.   It's sort of like  a song
that  you   heard  playing   at  that   time  when
everything changed  for you, but even  now so long
afterwards, it still makes you well up just a tick
when you hear it.

But  me,  I don't  feel  that  strongly about  any
particular vehicle. Not really.  I do like the way
some look, and I'm bound  hear a note of nostalgia
from  certain kinds.   Even  as a  kid, I  noticed
cars.  But it's not  like that thing where someone
goes to  war and  serves in some  kind of  tank or
whatever  for   years,  and   had  all   kinds  of
experiences in  that rig.  Or if  they spent years
rebuilding their grandfather's truck with care and
dedication, and  later when  they build  a plastic
model  of it,  every piece  feels like  a familiar
piece  of themselves  too.  I  don't think  I have
that bond  with any vehicle. I  wonder what that's
like.

In my  kit building box,  there's a few  tools and
things that are essential,  to me.  And I'll write
those here in case it  ever helps someone else get
started.   Probably  I  do some  stuff  badly,  or
there's better  ways and  tools to  be had.  But I
feel comfortable with the bits  I have now and the
results I get from  them, however limited that may
be. I'm  not looking  for the  next thing,  I just
want to do more of the thing I know.

There's  my exacto  knife and  extra blades.   For
cutting  parts off  the  frames,  and slicing  off
rough edges. And I also  stick it inside the small
holes and turn it around,  to scrape paint off the
insides before cementing parts together.

I have a few files. The one I use the most is this
little metal  flat file,  about 1 mm  wide. That's
good for scraping things  I need to glue together,
because  glue  won't stuck  so  well  to paint  or
chrome plating.

For glue,  I use testors  model cement. I  use the
kids kind in a blue  tube, the non-toxic kind, not
the usual  orange tube.  The real  stuff is strong
as hell, but smells nasty and the fumes are really
bad for you, even it  says so. The kid stuff isn't
nearly  as  strong,  but  I  that  never  bothered
me. And like I say, I throw my finished stuff away
after a  few months anyways.  The  non-toxic stuff
even  smells   good,  like  grapefruit   juice  or
something.  My whole box smells of this by now.  I
think because the glue uses citric acid instead of
whatever solvent is in the stronger stuff.

I got my  cans of toothpicks. The  round kind with
points on both  ends. I always squeeze  a tiny bit
of glue  out onto  a piece  of scrap  cardboard or
paper,  and then  spread it  on the  plastic piece
with one  of those  toothpicks.  And they  say you
ought to clean your  plastic pieces with some dish
detergent before  you even start a  model, to help
the glue and paint bind better.

I got various paintbrushes.  Tiny ones, and bigger
ones. I  try to get good  ones, and I try  to look
after them.  I only  use water-based acrylics, and
that sure makes the  clean-up easier.  Oil enamels
go  on  smooth, but  them  and  the thinners  sure
stink.

And there's  a few pairs  of tweezers. I  bought a
pack  of   various  kinds  somewhere   years  ago.
Sometimes  these are  helpful  for  laying on  the
water-slide decals,  or picking up  and assembling
the really small bits.

I keep this empty tin can  in my box, one of those
little tomato  paste ones.  I  put a drop  of dish
detergent in there with some warm water and that's
how I  wash my brushes,  swish them all  around in
there and then rinse with plenty of clear water.

For  paints, Vallejo  acrylics  are my  favorites.
They go  on so  nicely with  a brush.   Although I
think  I  might  try  switching  to  much  cheaper
dollar-store  acrylic tubes.   They might  be good
enough.  I am not that picky, and I'm not into the
real-world-accurate  colors  thing.   And  I  sure
don't want to bother with an airbrush, even though
that's the way you get the super-nice results.

Vallejo  has matte/satin/gloss  varnish or  finish
coats too. I  brush that on over top  of the paint
when it dries.

The Vallejo  paints come in these  round eyedropper
bottles. I can  shake them up to  stir them before
using, but  I can also  roll them fast  between my
two palms. I even used to  hold the end of the cap
in the chuck  of an electric drill,  and spin them
that way. But that might have been a little much.

I use  this little  plastic paint  mixing palette.
It's  like a  dish with  small round  indentations
around it  for putting  paint into. Squeeze  a few
drops in there and start painting.

I received  as a gift,  these tubs of  paint. They
are  a bit  thick,  so a  bit  of Vallejo  thinner
helps.  But  just like the Vallejo  paint they are
full of pigment and  they self-level after putting
them on, and I am happy with them.

I  also got  this  scraper  thing. Can't  remember
where I got it from. It's like a little flat-blade
screwdriver  with  a  bent  end.  I  like  it  for
scraping  paint  off  flat  surfaces  when  that's
needed. Although the files  and even the knife are
often better for this.

You got to have some rags. I keep pieces of ripped
t-shirt in my box.

I used to paint everything on the frames, then cut
and assemble.   But now I'm  trying to cut  & glue
some  parts together,  then paint.   What's better
probably depends on the  situation.  It takes some
planning.

Model car kits  for sure don't make  good toys for
kids when  done, as  most of  them aren't  even on
rolling wheels,  and there's way too  many fragile
bits. Although I guess you  could modify one to be
a  toy, if  you  put  on some  toy  car axles  and
wheels,  strip off  the all  the tiny  pieces, and
glue the doors and hood shut.  I remember one time
in my slot car racing days, I found a 1/32 plastic
kit in some store.  I Cut the bottom out to put in
a guide  in the  front and built  a sort  of rough
chassis  out of  square brass  tube and  hot glue.
Somehow got a  motor and gear set to  sit on that,
and it actually ran.

But  you know,  I think  toy cars  in general  are
quite good toys for kids, regardless of how I feel
about real  cars. They're one piece.  They roll on
the floor,  and they  fit under your  hand. Pretty
durable.  And cars are a thing most kids see every
day  in  their world.   It's  funny  how even  now
there's so  much farm  imagery in their  books and
shows like  it's still 1924 and  three quarters of
them live  on farms.   But most kids  nowadays for
sure see more cars than  cows day in and out.  And
then  there's  the  whole story-telling  piece  in
kids' play, the  beginning-middle-end thing again.
Do you know  that kind of play  is a developmental
indicator that  experts look  for in  little kids?
And you can  put your doll in a car,  and they can
go wherever you imagine.   Go someplace far in the
car.   There's so  much  possibility  for play  in
there.

I remember there was some www bulletin board about
model cars  that I used  to read on. And  for sure
it's  cool to  see others'  work.  And  I think  I
picked up a magazine or two from some newsstand or
other. The sense I got,  is that having the colors
correct for the year and make is very important to
some  people. Maybe  especially  for the  military
vehicle    fans.      There's    certainly    that
attention-to-detail aspect  which I admire,  but I
just can't get too excited  about that. Part of me
wants to  even color  things strangely just  to be
different. I'm  like, anti-correct.  If I  had the
time and money, I'd do two builds of the same kit,
one straight, and one wacky.  There's my hyperreal
simulacrum  urge again.   Or maybe  I should  just
focus on buying the same model kit again and again
and again, building it differently every time. But
that feels a bit narrow, even for me.