KITTEN COLLECTIBLES #16: Saved By the Cow!

In addition to watching and writing about films, I’m something of a memorabilia collector. I ain’t out there bidding on Dorothy’s ruby slippers or anything, but certainly enjoy haunting local shops for a variety of movie-related stuff. Or when feeling particularly bold, I’ll occasionally overpay for some retro relic on eBay. More often than not, I leave stores empty-handed. But every now and then, I’ll find a small treasure that doesn’t completely empty my wallet and give it a new home in the Dave Cave.

A Treasure Hunt by D.M. ANDERSON💀

As of this writing, I am a fugitive…at large, on the lam, a wanted man. And they’ll never take me alive.

My crime? It all started one Sunday afternoon several weeks ago, when the family and I decided to visit some of the unique local shops in a part of Portland we don’t regularly frequent. Of particular interest to me was Rewind Toys and Collectibles, a fairly new vintage store. Well, new to me, anyway.

Being that it was an unfamiliar neighborhood, I was keeping a sharp eye out for the street I needed...so sharp that I blew right through an intersection while the light was red, despite my wife shouting “Dave! Dave! Dave!” I also caught the unmistakable flash of a traffic camera, catching me dead to rights. Shit.

“Well, I guess I have that to look forward to in the mail,” I groused. My wife and daughters, however, thought it was hilarious, probably because I always boasted myself as a great driver and often pointed out how bad others are. I’m sometimes even critical of my own family’s driving skills. Almost immediately, my girls came up with a nickname, “Red Light Runner,” which they proceeded to chorus at every subsequent traffic light. And it has since become a running gag whenever I go through an intersection while the light is yellow…which happens a lot more than I’d like to admit.  

In fact, maybe it’s time to admit that I’m not the skilled motorist I always considered myself to be. After all, the last traffic ticket in the family was mine (also for running a red light), as was the last fender bender. In the interim, there have been dozens of occasions where I nearly backed into something, tried to switch lanes while another car was there, or rear-ended the driver in front of me. If not for the vigilance of my wife in the passenger seat, there’s a chance I might’ve killed thousands by now. 

Anyway, we eventually found the place, crammed with vintage toys from days gone by and operated by a guy named Joe, who was friendly, helpful and pretty knowledgeable of his inventory. Like similar stores, a lot of it didn’t pique my interest (Pokemon, Star Wars, Funko Pops, superheroes), but tucked in the back of a display case was a Hanson Brothers action figure from the classic film, Slap Shot, the best sports movie ever made. Consider it sold, Joe!

I continued browsing, and just when I thought I’d seen everything worth buying on this trip, I spotted it, sitting high atop another display case…an old plastic toy helicopter from the film, Blue Thunder. Unlike a lot of the figures and models I collect that were never actually meant to be played with, this was a genuine tie-in toy that definitely was played with. Until now, I’d never seen one before. That’s the kind of shit I love finding…memorabilia and toys from old movies that didn't become cultural milestones (which explains why I have so much crap related to The Black Hole).

Joe's place to the Dave Cave!

Joe obviously knew he had something rare, reflected by the price tag. Besides getting the wife’s blessing, I had to decide what was more pressing…grabbing this ancient beauty or using the same cash to pay the inevitable traffic ticket that was destined to arrive in my mailbox. Then Joe made my decision easier by knocking 25 bucks off the price…ticket be damned.

But even after three weeks of opening the mailbox each day with mounting dread, that ticket never came. Did I get away with it? If not, what were the Portland Police waiting for? After all, their traffic cam caught me in the act!

Then I realized something. When we bought our car (brand new and equipped with enough sensors, alarms & warning lights to remind me what a shitty driver I really am), we never attached the front license plate. Instead, we put on a novelty plate of a cartoon cow to give the car more personality. The cow’s expression is probably identical to the look of terror on mine and my wife’s faces when I blasted through the red light…which means (fingers still crossed) that the traffic cam did not capture our actual license plate number! Woo hoo! 

Saved by the cow!

On the other hand, maybe I’m not out of the woods just yet. For all I know, there’s now a city-wide APB on me. “Calling all cars. Calling all cars. Be on the lookout for a late model Nissan with a terrified bovine of the front bumper and an epic dumbass behind the wheel with the same expression. Last seen overpaying for a toy assault helicopter.” 

At any rate, they haven’t found me yet. I remain at-large and a menace to society, especially to any motorists unfortunate enough to be sharing the road with me. And thanks to my family, I have a moniker befitting my notorious life of crime: The Red Light Runner.