Pre-Production Space Trooper (Yoshiya/1959/Japan/6 inches)

Most collectors have "holy grails." You know, the pieces we dream about even though the odds say we'll never, ever, ever get our hands on them. The ones that keep us away long into the night, dreaming impossible dreams of glory through astonishing acquisition.

Well... This robot's one of mine. And right now, it's sitting on my desk in front of me.



You're looking at a Pre-Production Sample of a Robby the Robot knock off called the Space Trooper. It was made by Yoshiya way back in 1959.

As toys go, your basic Space Trooper isn't terribly complicated. Turning the crank engages a flywheel system, which causes the robot to roll forward while the multiple antennas in its head rotate in different directions. The wheels in its feet are off-center, which makes the robot wobble side-to-side as it rolls. It's simple, it's primitive, and frankly, I think it's completely awesome!

As I said, this is a Pre-Production Sample. I know, I know: "Doc, what the heck is a Pre-Production Sample?" Gather 'round, kids, and I'll tell ya!

Pre-Production Samples were one of the last stages in toy production before achieving a finished product. They were used by the toy companies for catalogue photos, as salesman's samples, and as display pieces at industry events like Toy Fair in New York City. They share most of the traits of a final production toy -- the one that ends up on toy store shelves -- but they also differ in many significant ways.

In the case of the Space Trooper, there are four major differences.

1. COLOR
The production models of the Space Trooper only came in red or black. A similar toy by Yoshiya that replaces the robot dome with an astronaut's head was also sold in dark blue. The Pre-Production Sample is a classy silver with black and red accents.

The few sightings we've uncovered in toy catalogues from 1959 all show this silver version. In fact, Pre-Production Samples of other toys have shown up over the years and they're also silver, as are the catalogue photos for these other toys. It makes me think it might be some sort of industry standard thing; perhaps this color scheme works better when rendered as a high-contrast, black and white catalogue image. There's no conclusive evidence that the colors were chosen for this reason, though -- I'm only thinking out loud.



2. MECHANISM
As I mentioned earlier, Space Troopers feature off-center, reciprocating wheels. The silver Pre-Production Sample, however, has wheels with a centered axle. They roll normally. The wheels are also larger than those found on a production toy. This is really one of the most important differences between the two versions as it illustrates a major development of the toy from one stage to the next. It shows Yoshiya attempting to inject more play value into the toy -- but in the cheapest way possible. I'll tell you what, though. Those wobbly wheels on the final version are definitely pretty neat! Good job, Yoshiya!




3. BODY STAMPING
Given how rare all Pre-Production Samples are, they were most likely done in small batches. Remember, these weren't meant to reach the public so the toy companies didn't need nearly as many pieces. It's likely that they were also not held to the same level of quality control. See, while all tin toys have wrinkles in the metal around the more complex folds, they're much more prominent on this early version of the toy. Also, the smooth, rounded parts have a little bit of unevenness to them that you don't see on the final, production robots.

Basically, Yoshiya spit out these samples so they could have something to show off the toy. Production lead-times being what they were, there was ample opportunity to clean up and refine the manufacturing process before shipping out the robots.



4. CHROME
The strip of chrome running up the side of the toy is supposed to fit tightly, conforming to the robot's curves. The strip of chrome on the pre-production sample looks like it was assembled by a blind monkey. It's kind of a mess. But as I've argued in the past, that's a big part of the charm of pre-production toys and prototypes. These aren't perfect, and they should look a little rough around the edges. Pre-Production should look like Pre-Production!






There are only two or three known examples of the Pre-Production Space Trooper. Or so I've been told -- I'm sure some others are floating around... maybe.

But this particular Space Trooper is very important to me. See, I helped uncover it many years ago. A woman from Kansas had listed it on eBay back in 2004, and found herself inundated with questions from potential buyers demanding to know why it was silver. She quickly realized she was out of her depth, so she did some checking online and ended up finding my old web site. She sent me an email asking for help.

Of course, I had no idea what it was, either. But I did some digging and discovered that there was -- at the time -- only one or two other silver Space Troopers, and that they all might be a Pre-Production pieces. Whatever it was, it was valuable. Valuable enough that I couldn't come close to affording it.

However, I was able to hook the woman up with a friend of mine named Pat Karris. Pat had, at the time, the world's most complete Forbidden Planet/Robby the Robot collection. However, he didn't have this piece. Happily, Pat and the seller were able to work out a deal and the robot ended up on his shelf.

I was there the day he got it in the mail, and when I finally saw the toy up close, I fell desperately in love. I wanted one -- badly. But I knew it wouldn't happen. However, I consoled myself by remembering that Pat lived in NYC, which meant I could have visitation rights.

Fast forward a number of years. Pat decided to sell off a bunch of his robots (for a variety of reasons) and they ended up going to a man named Al Rosen. Rosen made a name for himself buying and selling baseball cards, and he's a legend in that hobby. When he caught the robot and space toy bug, he pursued the toys with the same passion -- and deep pockets. Soon, he had nearly everything. Every. Thing.

And then he decided to get out. His toys were auctioned off about a year-and-a-half ago by Smith House Toys in a two-part auction that I can't even talk about without my head exploding.

And yes, this little Space Trooper was on the block with everything else.

And no, I couldn't afford to buy it at the time.

But another friend of mine, Steve Jaspen, was able to snag it. He lives in New York, too, and it was nice having the robot "come home." Besides, my visitation rights were restored.

And then, about a week or two ago, I got a call from Steve. It turned out he had decided to sell this robot. He knew my history with the toy and wanted to offer it to me first. We discussed the price a bit, did a little back and forth, and then let the dust settle. "So," he asked. "Do you want it?"

Dumbest. Question. Ever. Just tell me where to send the check.

So here we are, one more Holy Grail crossed off the list. I've waited a loooooong time for this one. I never thought it'd shake lose, and now that it has, I feel like it's come full circle. I'm a very, very happy camper.

Videos of Toys!

Donald Conner -- a.k.a. Captain Conner -- has one of the most amazing flying saucer collections in the world. He's also got some amazing robots and ray guns -- including a bunch that I'd love to own. I once visited Don's house way out on the West Coast, but at the time, his collection was a fraction of what it's become. So I was thrilled to hear that he'd made a few home movies showcasing his shelves.

I asked for permission to repost them here, and he graciously agreed. So grab some popcorn and sit back to gawk at some toys that can truly be called "top flight." (Ha! Get it?!)

(Click through to You Tube to see the videos in higher resolution.)

VIDEO 1


VIDEO 2


VIDEO 3

Collecting Achievements and Goals: 2010 Edition

(I've shamelessly stolen this idea from a Star Wars forum called Rebel Scum. Go check it out!)

With the end of 2010 fast approaching, I thought it would be fun to reflect on our collecting achievements over the last year, while also establishing some goals for 2011. When next year comes to a close, we can drag out this post and see how we did.

I'll list mine here, and you guys can list yours in your own blogs. Please post a link to your lists in the comments below! Then visit each other's blogs and leave your links in those comments sections, too. (If you don't have your own blog, just put your entry in my comments section.)

Ready? Then here we go!

Collecting Achievements for 2010

2010 was a great year for me as a collector. The Smith House and Morphy auctions were great fun, and Botstock was, as always, a blast. I met a bunch of collectors across a variety of hobbies, and made a whole bunch of new friends. A number of my robots and ray guns were used as models by an amazing painter named Steven Skollar, and I was asked to participate in a TV show about collecting (though we'll see if my segment ever airs). And, of course, I also scored lots of new goodies, including some that have been on my want-list for a long time. Some highlights:

Vintage Tin Robots

The Yonezawa Prototype TV Robot • Cragstan Ranger Robot • Horikawa Mr. Zerox • Yonezawa Moon Robot • Mr. Atom Robot 

Vintage Star Wars

Early Bird Set with Double Telescoping Lightsaber Luke • DT Lightsaber Prototype • Full run of Takara R2-D2s and C-3POs • Full run of Kenner R2s

Other

Hamilton Electric Pacer watch • 1939 World's Fair die-cast tram and squished penny • Alphabot Robot • Science Fiction paintings by Morris Scott Dolens and Donald Simpson

Collecting Goals for 2011

For 2011, I'd like to continue meeting other collectors -- that's always one of the most fun parts of any hobby. I'd also like to make it back out to Robot Hut if possible, and continue to visit the collections of different Star Wars collectors. I've also got my sights set on some specific toys that I'd love to add sometime next year, including:

Lantern Robot • Blue Polka Dotted R-7 • Mr. Atomic • SY Mechanical Walking Robot • Nando Robot • Rex Mars Sparking Ray Gun • Hiller Atomic Jet Gun • Vinyl Cape Jawa • Vintage "The Force" Lightsaber • Takara Transforming X-Wing • Takara die-cast Darth Vader

Will they happen? Who knows... We'll see how 2011 unfolds. At the end of the year, when we return to this list, I'm looking forward to seeing how many goals I'll be able to reclassify as achievements.

So... Who's next?

The Space Toy Artwork of Steven Skollar

If you're in New York City this weekend, I highly recommend heading over to SoHo's Arcadia Gallery to check out the latest exhibition of paintings by artist Steven Skollar. His focus is on (mostly) vintage toys -- robots, ray guns, flying saucers, and other odds and ends. Yep, all the stuff we love!


Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.

His paintings evoke the masters of prior centuries, with a very formal approach to lighting and composition. But this juxtaposes wonderfully with his pop culture subject matter, and the end result is something forceful yet whimsical. If I had a fireplace and a mantel in my toy room, his are exactly the kinds of paintings I'd want to hang above it.

I had the pleasure of meeting Steven for the first time nearly a year ago, when he asked if he could use some of my robots and ray guns as models for his paintings. Of course I said yes, and Steven came over with a pretty interesting -- and top secret! -- photo rig which he used to snap shots of a number of different toys. (I wrote about the day here.) I'm thrilled to see that many of them made the final cut, and now grace the walls of a SoHo art gallery. And people say that toy collecting isn't respectable! Pshaw!


Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.



Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.



Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.



Painting © Steven Skollar. Used with permission.


The exhibit runs until Sunday, November 26. Arcadia Gallery is located at 51 Greene Street, New York, NY. Their number is 212-965-1387, and their web site is www.arcadiafineart.com. Steven Skollar can be found online at www.stevenskollar.com

Prototype Television Robot (Yonezawa/1960s/Japan/9.5 inches)

Toys aren't born, they're made. And before they can be made, they go through stages of development that begin with sketches and model-making and culminate in the creation of a prototype. If the stars align properly -- i.e., the prototype works correctly, people like the design, and production isn't too costly -- the prototype is transformed into a toy.

But sometimes a toy never gets that far. Sometimes, something about the robot prevents it from making it out of the pre-production stage and on to the toy shelf. The toy industry is full of "what ifs" and "also rans," robots that started as really good ideas but, for whatever reason, never quite made the cut.

And while most of these prototypes were dismantled and turned into scrap, some survived. They remained in dark factory corners, or sitting on shelves in forgotten closets. They dodged the ravages of time and neglect until finally, finally, intrepid collectors dragged them into the light. And now, decades later, they survive as giant curiosities that hint at all the wonderful toys that, had fate not dipped and dived in the wrong direction, might be sitting on our shelves today.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of one such toy.

Presenting the prototype for a never-produced Television Robot by the company Yonezawa. Please bask in its glory for as much time as you'd like. I'm happy to wait.



I know, I know. It doesn't look like much. Just two legs, feet, a gear box, a pair of arms, and that big, round space scene on the front of its chest. But that's part of its charm. It's a prototype. For a toy that was never produced. Of course it's not going to look like a super model. But I would argue that a prototype is even cooler when you can tell that it's a prototype.

Prototypes demonstrate the toy-making process, providing a glimpse into the often hidden world of toy development. They're stages in the act of creation, and, in my opinion, are most interesting when they illustrate these stages. This means they're often rough around the edges compared to a finished toy, but that's the point.

And it gets even cooler. These prototypes are one-of-a-kind, hand-made toys. To use an art analogy, these are the original paintings and pencil sketches, while the toys themselves are just machine-made prints. As such, I consider them wonderful works of mechanical art.

So... What exactly are we looking at? Allow me to break it all down.

This is a concept for a walking Television robot. As far as we can tell, the toy walks forward with swinging arms and a spinning antenna in what would have been its head. At the same time, the disk on its chest rotates about 30% before stopping. Then a bulb lights up, illuminating the scene, which would be visible through a TV window on the robot's chest. After a few seconds, the whole process starts all over again.

It sounds fairly basic, but the toy included one feature that was positively revolutionary -- at least, it would have been if the robot had ever made it into production: Bump-And-Go action.




Bump-and-go action allows a toy to slam into a wall, spin around, and go in another direction. It's common on skirted robots and many space cars, tractors, tanks -- pretty much anything that rolls. However, no one in the hobby had ever seen it on a walking robot until this prototype surfaced.

So how's it work? The robot walks forward until it bumps into a wall. This pushes in a tab on the toy's left foot, which engages a mechanism that causes the wheels in its feet to only roll backwards for a set period of time. As the robot continues to try to walk forward -- the right leg still works properly -- it ends up spinning itself in a circle. By the time it's facing away from the wall, the mechanism in the left foot has disengaged, allowing the wheels in the foot to roll forward again. This, in turn, permits the robot to start walking -- until it hits another wall, of course.




It's an elegant solution that would have given the toy so much additional play value. But looking at the inside of the foot, you can see that it's a fairly complicated mechanism that probably added to the toy's production cost. It's sad, but not surprising, that Yonezawa never implemented it in any of their toys.

Now, remember I mentioned that these toys are hand-made? This brings us to one of the prototype's coolest features: The hand-painted space art on the chest disk. As a fan of both toy robots and original science fiction art, I can barely express how cool I think this is. I'm amazed my head hasn't exploded already.

My friend and fellow collector, Donald Conner, pointed out that whoever painted the wonderful scenes of rockets, space stations, and robots on this disk most likely also painted the original artwork for at least some of the litho on other robots. Not only that, there's a great chance he created some box art as well.

That noise you just heard was my head finally going boom.

The scene is painted on a clear piece of round plastic using what look like water colors. It's backed with a piece of thin, translucent paper that helps to diffuse the light from the bulb that illuminates the art. The disk has warped a bit with age, and you can see spots where the paper has pulled away, taking some of the artwork with it. So the whole thing is extremely delicate. Still, it displays wonderfully, delivering a tiny, funky science fiction universe.

I don't really know too much about the Television Robot Prototype's history. It was discovered in Japan, and at some point it made its way onto the Yahoo Japan auction site. A well-known dealer won it for a collector here in the States, and he owned it for a couple years. Recently, he decided to get out of the hobby -- his collection was amazing! -- and he's been selling off his toys over the last couple months. When I saw the prototype on the block, I jumped at it.

When the toy was originally discovered, it was missing its right leg and foot. The funky bump-and-go mechanism was attached to the left foot plate, but the foot plate itself didn't fit perfectly to the foot housing. The toy had no battery box -- there was no way to see what it could really do.

(Photo: John Rigg)

So it was sent to toy collector, and robot-builder extraordinaire John Rigg. The prototype's owner knew that John could find a way to replace the missing parts and provide the toy with power -- but without doing anything that would damage the prototype itself. It was important to preserve this piece of history, so like all conservation and restoration work, anything done to the robot needed to be completely reversible.

John is a legend in the hobby. He's got an amazing collection, which he houses in the Robot Hut, a giant building that he constructed himself on his farm out west. John's also a genius when it comes to electronics, fabrication, and all-around mad science. In his spare time, he likes to customize toy robots for himself and other collectors; he also builds life-size recreations of famous Hollywood robots, like Robby from Forbidden Planet and Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still. He's opened and repaired more vintage robots that most of us will ever own, and there's probably no one left alive who knows more about how these toys work. So of course he was the perfect choice to take on the job.

Never let it be said that John doesn't commit 100% to a job! Using the left leg and foot, he created templates for the missing parts, which he then painstakingly fabricated out of tin. He even made molds of the medallions on the side of the legs in order to create copies. The new foot was given a simple walking mechanism, and then attached to the leg. The leg was then put in the body, and careful attention was paid to how it would hook up to the gear box. After all, John wasn't satisfied with having the toy merely stand up -- he wanted it to work, too!

(Photo: John Rigg)

(Photo: John Rigg)

To give it power, he attached a battery box to a piece of metal, which was then screwed into existing holes on the robot's back -- most likely where the actual battery box would have attached. Everything was attached to the toy's motor. Of course it all worked perfectly. (John didn't bother to re-attach the bump-and-go mechanism. It didn't fit right, as I mentioned, so it was decided to leave it off so that it could be displayed next to the robot. It's a choice I wholeheartedly support and agree with.)

(Photo: John Rigg)

Unfortunately, not much else is known about this robot. There's a picture of another prototype piece that might be the toy's body and head, and I'll discuss this in a future post when more information becomes available. But the robot's name, the exact year it was created, where it was found -- it's all still a mystery. Obviously, one that I'd love to solve.

A lot of collectors just aren't into prototypes. Their attitude: "It's just a step in the process, who cares? And an unproduced prototype? A step in the process that didn't even lead anywhere? Pshaw! What's the point, man? You got rooked!"

Of course, a lot of collectors also feel just like I do. They understand that this is an important, rare, and -- yes -- beautiful piece of history, and as such, is valuable to the hobby in ways that can't be understated. It's also an inspiring reminder that for every toy we've seen, there are probably hundreds that never made it out the factory doors. These unproduced toys are flights of fancy for some enthusiastic toy designers, efforts that demonstrate talent, imagination, and technical expertise. They're a direct link to the people who made all these wonderful toys that we collect, and something that very few people have the opportunity to see, much less own.

So I'm kind of freaking out. As a collector, I consider this a grail piece, something I've tried to find for a long time without ever really knowing what I was looking for. And now that I've got it? I couldn't be happier.

Special thanks to John Rigg, whose work with the Television Robot uncovered all of its cool features and ultimately brought it back to life. John's the one who figured out the walking mechanism, and he's graciously allowed me to paraphrase his description, and use his photos, in this post. 


For more information on the prototype, and to see more of John's repair photos, check out this thread on Alphadrome: Yonezawa Prototype.

W Robot (Noguchi / 1960s / Japan / 7 inches)

A mystery in the toy world: What's the "W" on the W Robot stand for? "Wonderful"? "Wicked"? "Wow"? I have no idea. Like I said, it's a mystery! What's not a mystery is that this little robot is super cool. (See what I did there? It's call reincorporation, and it's a writing technique that's so common it's actually a cliche. But I did it anyway, because that's how I roll.)



I've always liked this funky little 'bot. His unusual, round body, the playful litho, that cool sparking window on his chest -- he's a true original! The W Robot is a fairly common toy, relatively inexpensive, and often an early addition to many people's collections. I think he was my fourth or fifth robot, and I remember being excited to discover a toy I recognized immediately from one of the great books by famous Japanese collector T. Kitahara. (Not that this particular example of the toy appeared in the book, of course.)





The W Robot is part of a category of robots known as "paddle wheels," so called because of their unusual walking mechanism that employs a pair of off-axis wheels connected to paddle-like feet. Unlike his cousins, though, the W robot's mechanics are much more finished looking.



There are a number of variations on this particular robot. One version has more human-like arms, which are in fact taken from a paddle-wheel astronaut toy that uses the exact same body as the W robot, but entirely different lithography. Another version of the W Robot features a small, plastic spinner on its head. A third, extremely rare version -- I've only seen one -- has a different red gel on its chest. And lastly, there's a version of the toy produced by a Greek company that has a different symbol on its chest (and is marked as being made in Greece).



By the way, the background in these shots is yet another experiment. I was trying for something vaguely lush and organic, something weird with a lot of texture. I think I achieved it, but I'm not sure it actually works. It's a little busy, I think. Nice, but maybe not quite right for photographing robots. The opening shot, in particular, lacks sufficient separation between the subject -- the 'bot -- and the background. The lighting's too strong, and there depth of field isn't nearly shallow enough. Oh well, live and learn!

Wind Up Gear Robot (Horikawa / 1960s / Japan / 9 inches)

Now this is a colorful robot!



The Wind Up Gear Robot isn't the first gear robot made by Horikawa, and it wouldn't be their last. The company definitely got a lot of mileage out of its gears, but that's great because, let's face it, gears and robots go together like... well... gears and robots.



This is one of Horikawa's famed "Fly Eyes," so called because of the trapezoidal, perforated pieces of tin on their faces. The company made a lot of them, with all sorts of functions, over the course of its multi-decade manufacturing run. There are so many Fly Eyes out there, in fact, that many collectors have sub-collections of nothing but this particular style of robot. And those collections are probably bigger than my entire collection combined!



You can tell that this is one of Horikawa's later robots by the plastic head, arms, legs, and feet. The body is still tin, as is the lithographed panel behind the clear, plexi chest shield. I used to not really love too much plastic on my vintage robots, but over the years I've come to accept that, regardless of what it's made of, a cool robot is a cool robot.

I think it's a lesson we can apply to many parts of our lives, yes? Yes.

I won this robot -- and one other -- at an auction recently. It was a fun experience; I was phone bidding for the first time. For all the auctioneer knew, I was bidding in my boxers. I wasn't, but I like that I could have been!

Electro Art Works On Display!

I'd like to give a shout out to sculptor Andy Hill, who has three of his Andy Bots included in an exhibit called "The Art of the Robot" at the Mulvane Art Museum in Topeka, Kansas.

Photo: Curator Carol Emert for the Mulvane Art Museum. Via Alphadrome.

Andy is a talented artist who creates fascinating toy robots out of found objects. His pieces are always fun and full of personality, and wrought with such skill that you can rarely tell where the individual parts originally came from. I've written about him, and have posted pics of my own Andy Bots, here.

"The Art of the Robot" runs through September 19, and includes works by 17 artists, including Hill, Clayton Bailey, Eric Joyner, Nemo Gould, and David Lipson. For more information, visit the Mulvane Art Museum's web site.

You can find out more about Andy Hill's work by visiting his site, Electro Art Works.

Re-Arranging The Shelves

I've added a few new robots to my collection lately, and frankly, the cases are starting to feel a bit cluttered. Time for some re-arranging!



I enjoy figuring out new ways to display my toys. It's a chance to interact with the collection, to pull down all the robots and really get a feel for them after what's often been quite a long time. When I've finished, the collection feels brand new; I get overly comfortable seeing the toys in the same place day in and day out, and sometimes they end up becoming background noise. By shaking things up, I really find myself focusing on these toys in a brand new way.

I didn't get too fancy in how I approached the new set up. In the past, I've grouped things by look or color or action. This time, I just went with aesthetics. If a clump of toys looks good together, they stay together. (Full disclosure: Some of my shelves remain untouched; they looked good before and I still think they look good now.)

What about you guys? How often do you re-arrange your collections? Is it a fun process? A painful one? What sort of criteria do you use when deciding how to arrange your stuff? Leave any thoughts in the comments section.

Mr. Zerox (Horikawa / 1965 / Japan / 9 inches)

Mr. Zerox is a robot with a lot of personality. Just look at those shades! Look at that jaunty cap! Stylin!



Popular culture in the Fifties and Sixties was obsessed with atomic energy, and toy manufactures capitalized on this by sticking variations of the word "atom" in the names of everything they produced. Heck, in the world of robots alone I can think of four examples off the top of my head: Mr. Atomic, Atomic Robot Man, Mr. Atom, and Atom Robot.

Making less of an impact on people's imaginations? Photocopy technology. And yet, and yet, Horikawa decided to embrace this mad science by naming a robot after the Mac Daddy of all photocopy companies, Xerox. Of course, they changed things up by using a Z instead of an X. Perhaps to avoid lawsuits? Or maybe the Japanese company spelled the name phonetically. Who knows? Horikawa's departure from the world of atoms and all things atomic was bold, and darn it, I salute their gumption and individuality!


Note the separate, contoured eye piece. You can just make out the circles underneath it where Horikawa would have put the round eyes found on similar robots.

Mr. Zerox has a fun, if straightforward, action. Flip the switch on this battery powered robot and it walks forward while the green window on its chest lights up. After a few steps, the front door flips forward, and two guns pop out and flash while making a rat-tat-tat sound.



The center bulb between the two guns is what actually lights up. 

Horikawa was one of the longest running toy companies, producing robots for more than four decades. Horikawa made so many robots, in fact, that many collectors have sub-collections of the toys within their robot collection. This is one of the earlier pieces, marked as such by its all-tin construction and small stature. I definitely wouldn't call it a rare toy, but it's not too common either -- especially in decent condition.


A nice burst of colorful litho accompanies the chest guns. The "SH" symbol stands for Horikawa.


The grill on top of the hat helps the rat-tat-tat sound come through loud and (annoyingly) clear.

I was late in coming to this robot. In fact, I was late in coming to Horikawa robots altogether. I'm not exactly sure why, I think I just wasn't familiar with them. But as I delved deeper into the hobby, and as I became exposed to more and more robots, I discovered the Horikawa's undeniable charms. Creative actions, iconic designs -- all the elements of a great toy robot.

By the way, in case you didn't notice, I've decided to abandon my old photo background. The shelf of toys was getting played out, so I'll be messing around with some new ideas in the coming posts. Keepin' it fresh!