toyboxdx toy blog brog: is graceful art of daily expressing japanese toy  

I love Tekkaman: The Space Knight (宇宙の騎士テッカマン UchÅ« no Kishi Tekkaman). 1975 was a good year, for humans as well as for toys. I’ve aged a bit I guess.. Roughly 10lbs a year, thanks to Budweiser and a rigorous 12 hr a day schedule of surfing Yahoo Japan auctions. This lil’ guy on the other hand hasn’t aged a day. Just look at him:

Tricycles are typically not a part of my day to day toy diet, but this one for some reason tickled my fancy. I loved it. I needed it.. Little did I know this particular trike would turn out to be a bit of a mystery..

The following debauchery ensued:

Friday night 8pm. On the road feverishly texting back and forth with Brian Flynn about just who the hell made this little bastard. I’ve just got to know. Sideswiping cars while throwing beer cans out the window, my wife SCREAMS “Don’t text and drive!!”. Yeah, yeah..

“No markings, nothing on the box, nada.. It’s definitely NOT the Nakajima version, which has a solid colored plastic trike. This one sports a clear trike, gears exposed and all.” I tap out over the course of two city blocks.

“Listen, Sjoen, I’m breast feeding my kid right now.. I told you I can’t be your plus one tonight. Call Hiro.” BF texts.

“WTF!! I’m asking about the trike not the show.. Forget it.. Later.”

You would think the MASTER collector of the bastards of Japanese toys would know. I mean c’mon, let’s face it, tricycle toys are the red headed step children of not only vinyl but tin collecting as well, and Brian knows more about them than anyone else on God’s green.

“Sorry man, I was a little busy BREAST FEEDING my kid!! Seriously!? Anyway, let’s go with Aoshin. I’ll check tonight and get back to you when I have time. Fucking freak… Please don’t ever text message or call me again. EVER!!..” he types with clear hesitation in his taps. Right? Right.

We both scratch our heads (cyber like) and loosely decide on Aoshin. But, it just doesn’t feel right to me somehow..

Back at the pad later that evening the late night emails are sent to my man on the inside, prof. Robert Duban.

Come Saturday morning 6am, the Moscow to Washington “red telephone” rings. Wait, I mean LA to San Francisco “pink telephone” beeps of the hook.. It’s Prof. RD. He reports that he feverishly spent the last 6 hours scouring the un-datafiles and the internets for proof of this elusive Tekkaman’s lineage. When suddenly the line goes silent.. “Clickity clack click clack..” Moments pass and I finally hear him mutter “check messages stat comrade!”. And voila!

Mystery solved.. Or is it?

Believe it or not, later that morning there were several attempts made on my life and currently the tricycle in question is no longer in my possession. Upon arriving home that fateful morning I discovered that the vault I had entrusted the safety of this rarity to had been professionally compromised and the tricycle liberated.

The mystery continues..