The Hot Wheels Industrial Complex

Many people these days are raising the alarm about Artificial Intelligence, but they are too late, as evidenced by the fact that Hot Wheels are now self-replicating. Everywhere I step is a new Hot Wheel that seems intent on my downfall. I can’t even get up in the middle of the night without fear that a Hot Wheel will ambush me en route to pee. As a fringe benefit, my employer offers an Accident Plan, a type of insurance that compensates you for fractures, dislocations, concussions, and lacerations. I used to wonder who would feel the need to purchase such a plan, on top of their regular health insurance, and then Thomas turned three and smuggled a Hot Wheel home from daycare. Ever since, Hot Wheels have been multiplying exponentially in our house, and I signed up for the High Option for the Accident Plan. 

For a three-year-old boy, Hot Wheels is a way of life. Thomas wakes up on Saturday mornings at 6:30, climbs into our bed, and pummels us back into wakefullness. “Can I watch Hot Wheels City?” he asks every Saturday. By this point in his short life, Thomas has probably seen Draven, the evil genius in Hot Wheels City, thwarted a thousand times by Chase and Elliot, the two claymation heroes who drive Hot Wheels to save the day, all while engaging in witty banter.

As a parent, I place blame squarely on the grandparents–as much as I try to prevent more contraband from entering the house, I think my mom sneaks in Hot Wheels inside her scratch-made five layer chocolate cake. It’s too good to resist, even if it does contain a metallic layer. These days, good ole-fashioned Hot Wheels are now a gateway to more expensive Hot Wheels Monster Trucks. It’s as if the whole Hot Wheels Industrial Complex is merely meant to dislocate grandparents from their money and parents from their shoulders. One of Thomas’s favorite Hot Wheels Monster Trucks is named Bone Shaker, an apt name if you happen to step on it in the middle of the night.

Thomas and his Monster Trucks