When I was a kid, I drew my share of cars, though I spent most of my doodle time making pictures of dragons, pigs and pointy-headed creatures of questionable origin. I was a cartoonist, not a draftsman. I was as impressed as any ten-year-old with Odd Rods, but my fascination was restricted primarily to the scary beasts that were shown bursting out of the driver's seat of most of the musclebound vehicles depicted on those trading cards. I built my share of plastic model cars, most of which sat on a shelf in my room until they had aged to a point that would be proper for burning. Bathtub Buggy, Rommel's Rod, and the iconic Red Baron all eventually became molten slag in my parents' back yard on those Friday nights when we three brothers were left with nothing to do but test the melting point of polystyrene.
The models my son has collected would be considerably more difficult to dispose of. Not simply because they are made of metal, but also because of the sheer number of Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and other exotic machines that fill the shelves of his room. He has assembled a few of them, but mostly he prefers to buy them already put together and then admire them for their precision and detail. He has experimented with painting on a few occasions, but he seems content to hold on to the vision of the original designers. This doesn't mean he isn't creative. He applies his sketching talents to the lines of Carroll Shelby and his contemporaries. He's drawing the rods for my odds.
All of this is to say that I feel that, in some way, I may have let my son down. BMW recently released a very impressive rendering of four-year-old gearhead Eli's dream car. Nineteen engines and forty-two wheels, and an air-cooled toy trunk make this a monster that demands attention. At least for those of us with imaginations. This is a car my son and I could agree on. Now we just have to get them to make a hybrid version to get mom on board.