Once again, sound advice from James Lileks.
I made a Trader Joe’s run, stocked up on all sorts of fine things to eat, bought some enormous flagons of spirits but did not go with the plastic bottles, always a sign that the guests wake the next day feeling poisoned. If you can imagine the same bottle containing windshield wiper fluid, don’t buy it.
Followed later by a memory.
As I said, I had a Hot Wheels version, painted with sparkly metal. I loved those things, even though the tracks invariably broke and became difficult to connect. See, you had these long strips of track connected by flat pieces of plastic that fit into grooves on the bottom. The grooves split. The tracks were not seamless. You sent a car down the track, it hit a groove, flipped. Which was cool because you make explosion sounds and pretend everyone was on fire and screaming – you know, innocent boyhood play. But eventually all the tracks were ruined. This may have happened for everyone who ever had Hot Wheels.
As I recall the tracks made fine weapons, emitting a loud SLAP and leaving a distinctive red mark when applied to skin.