A personal history 'fragment' about toy cars and my childhood:

Each week, my father would buy me a toy car for a collection he must have hoped for me to continue. I think he wanted me to be a mechanic and must have took umbrage when I showed absolutely no interest or aptitude. I remember playing with my collection, anyway, under the stairs, on the sofa, and the television; the house, for me, was a micro version of the outside world and I liked playing in this world without what my parents perceived to be the 'danger'.

I remember there was one car in my collection, a black sports car that looked nothing like the object on display, whose wheels wouldn't move when I pushed it... so I didn't like that!