Lefty Limbo

Here’s yet another prized toy from my childhood, which ranks amongst the “Top 5 Most Awesome Things I Ever Owned As A Kid That I Would Never Get Rid of Even If You Payed Me,” if there was ever such a category.

Unfortunately, though, I was never one of those kids that thought, “Hey, maybe 30 years from now I’m gonna still cherish this thing like it was yesterday. I better take good care of it.” No way. I’m just lucky that my dad was (and still is) a packrat. I guess I take after him in that way myself. Heck, look at this thing—it was buried under clutter and junk since the ’80s.

And yes, my dear ducklings, I have the toy too, not just the box. Much to my chagrin, though, it’s missing parts. Ironically, parts that I kept seeing even through my teenage years, strewn in various random locations here and there at my parents’ house. And what would I say? “Oh look, there’s that radar dish from my Falcon. Haha. I remember that. Ok let’s go get some wine coolers.”

These days, like any other 40-something looking to recapture his/her childhood, there’s always Ebay to find those stray parts. I just may be lucky and find all of them. Or, I can find someone ditching their old Millennium Falcon and part it out. Hmm. Sure.

Those tiny mold spots are not from the Falcon’s travels through the Dagobah System, but I can always say they are. They do kinda look like battle damage, right? Or just an acute case of Interstellar Leprosy. Nice going with the ramp there, eh? Good luck holding your breath during Hyperdrive. And gosh darn it, I used to kick around those stray struts like twigs around the house. Geez.

Nevertheless, I leave you, for now, with a shot of the back. See that kid’s face? That’s some genuine illustrated freakin’ bliss right there. Yes siree. I’m telling you, the Millennium Falcon was like the Rolls-Royce of toys in ’79–’80. I bet if you took a montage of every single kid’s facial expression when they received that toy those days, we would all look exactly like that illustrated kid, helmet-headed and everything.

If you haven’t yet taken the opportunity to click the pics, you may do so now at your leisure. They will bring you to my Flickr Photostream, where many more pics of the toy and box are awaiting your much-needed attention. Enjoy and have a great weekend.

As a child whose mind constantly travelled to galaxies far, far away (and still does today), there was probably no better place to play in the ’70s than local playgrounds and schoolyards on L.A.’s Westside, which were usually outfitted with a variant of one of these (courtesy of Plaid Stallions):

Yes, the almighty multi-stage rocket ship was the veritable beacon of ’70s playgrounds, and by far the most popular amongst the kids. Boys and girls of all ages loved climbing up through the stages and sliding down that long, lustrous zinc metal slide (which served as both a sizzling hotplate and blinding mirror in the summer time), while others (like myself) tried their hardest to Bogart the topmost stage, where one could sit atop our world…and dream of traveling to other worlds. Sometimes there was even some sort of steering wheel fixture up there, as if to allow one to “drive” the rocket, although I could never figure out why a rocket would have one.

Apparently, Space-Themed Playgrounds were a big thing in the ’70s, and for good reason—we were ahead in the Space Race (insert “USA! USA!” patriotic chant here). In fact, rocket ships were so prevalent on L.A.’s Westside, I couldn’t remember when a park or schoolyard didn’t have one.

Lately, though, I did recover some old pictures of my playful pastime, and happily rediscovered another old dear friend—the Lunar Lander. You’ll see from the ad below that this was another marketed must-have for Space-Age sandboxes (also courtesy of Plaid Stallions).

The lunar lander, though maybe not as tall and imposing as the 3-stage rocket, did provide its own brand of extra-terrestrial entertainment. I especially loved its landing pads, and applauded the manufacturer’s effort to faithfully replicate a real lunar module in this aspect (um, yeah, not like that stupid steering wheel). Even the ladders leading up from the pads were convincingly stylized, and offered hours of otherworldly charm. Note that the aforementioned ad heralds a “new, safer design” which eliminated these ladders. Anyways, here’s a picture of yours truly, poised confidently within the “unsafe” original open ladder design, somewhere on Los Angeles’ Westside, circa 1976-’77.

I really loved playing on the lunar lander. I remember allotting quite some time to dig the sand out from beneath the landing pads, perhaps hoping to find that the lander was indeed merely sitting atop the sandy martian surface, waiting for someone like myself to eventually cart it away into my own backyard. Of course, my fantasies were flushed by the rough, rocky surface of a concrete core which permanently grounded my beloved buddy to the earth. You’ll notice that the one in these photographs is not on top of sand, but rather that black, hard rubber jigsaw-pieced puzzle of safety that prevented us ’70s kids from cracking our heads open if we ever fell from the apparatus.

One odd aspect of the lander which I didn’t pay much mind to until now was the red shaft protruding from the middle of the craft. It looks to me now like a laser guidance system which would point out the precise location of landing and transmit its GPS coordinates to Command Control. Back then though, I wonder if I ever questioned why the manufacturer didn’t put a big thruster nozzle/cone in its place. Believe me, I was a total NASA nerd so I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.

Here’s another odd aspect of the photographs—what is that black briefcase doing on the playground?

Sigh. Sadly enough, all of these galvanized giants would be extinct by the mid-’80s here in L.A., but will live forever (hopefully) here on Lefty Limbo and other sites like Plaid Stallions, dedicated to preserving delights from the most decadent decade ever.

Update: My friends, I am happy to say that I’ve found a real live surviving specimen of the rocket, and it’s nearby at Los Arboles/Rocketship Park in Torrance, CA. And get this—it’s got FOUR stages, that weird “steering wheel” thing, and a Lunar Lander right next to it! CLICK HERE to get there in Warp Speed!.