This is not one of those tales of how I fell in love with a Gobot over a Transformers because of the superior quality of the toy compared to the other brand. Nor is it a story on how nostalgia clouded my judgement into thinking the Gobot was inferior to the Transformer brand.
This is a person story of how I left a particular toy from my childhood in the past as it remained tied to a painful memory I had every intention of avoiding. This is the story of the day my grandpa died and how my dad comforted my with what became my first Gobot toy.
I have been a toy collector, off and on, my entire life. It started when I was a kid. I have dabbled to varying degrees well into my adult life. I recently began the quest to get back fully into the collecting of toys and collectibles from my childhood. I have spent much of the time focused on Transformers that I had as a kid or those I picked up the first time I got back into adult collecting.
I had avoided buying Baron Von Joy for a number of reasons. The first and foremost is Gobots are not a top priority for me. As my financial resources are fairly limited I concentrated on the Transformers that were most important to me personally. The second reason I held off on seeking this toy out was the painful memory associated with the passing of my grandfather. Obviously as time has passed the pain has diminished as I have aged. Recently I lost another grandfather and decided it was time to honor the memory of the one I lost ages ago as a way to move on.
I wasn’t much older than somewhere between the ages of three and five. I have no more than a barely confirmed fuzzy memory of sitting with my grandpa before he passed. What I do have is a very vivid memory of my dad, the man I looked up to most as a kid, being away from his family for what felt like forever to a child when he went to California to attend his dad’s funeral. As a kid all I knew about California is it was where my grandpa went to die. It left me with a feeling of California is a bad place where people go to die. It wasn’t a rational fear but it stuck with me for a very long time.
Upon his return my dad filled the void in my fragile little heart by bringing me a present. It was, at the time, a fairly impressive Super Gobot toy. I knew it was special because all my Transformers were plastic but this was metal and had rubber tires. It was like those metal cars you see in the collectible aisle at the toy store. You know the ones old men were always looking at.
It was a sci-fi alien robot like my existing Transformers, except it also turned into a realistic car, in this case a Porsche. Little did I know that the Transformers toys that predated my late entry plastic possessions were also die cast metal with rubber tires. Hey, I was a kid and it was the late 80s the Gobots had already met their maker and Tranformers was taking over the world of young 80s kids.
Unfortunately the original one from my childhood failed to survive all those moves my family made over the years. I honestly cannot remember what exactly happened. What I do know is when I returned to the hobby as an adult collector I intentionally avoided buying this specific Gobot. In fact, I didn’t get nostalgic for the brand at all until I was in my late 20s.
It started slowly with my stumbling into a junk store in a small lakeside town in Nebraska. There on the shelf was a retro Gobot toy I had never seen but it had the branding plastered on its chest. I immediately bought it, took it home and looked it up on Google.
As I began researching the toyline that nostalgia began swelling up.
I took a few years off from collecting entirely before I came back around to collecting last year. As I decided to get back into collecting I made a choice to get the toys from my childhood. I had struggled with whether or not I was going to get this one or not. I decided it was time and so I made the plunge.
Once it arrived I was overwhelemed with emotions as the memory of my grandpa came back to me.