I had a fixation on transforming robots. Sometimes, I had a fixation on very large transforming robots. And once, I had a fixation on the biggest transforming robot of the time.
I tell you all this, so you understand the Christmas Day, where my parents (being much better to six year old me than he really deserved) presented me with a large box to unwrap. The paper was shredded, the cardboard destroyed, to unveil the very thing I had wished for.
Once the box had been carefully opened, and the horror of the polystyrene had been navigated, I held aloft the prize. He was huge. He was imposing. He was awesome.
Then his entire waist dropped off.
Holding the torso of my once magnificent present, I cried like only a six year old can. The heavy sobs threatened to consume all of my breath and all I knew was the constant burning of disappointment that I had only experienced precious seconds with this thing I had dreamed of.
The bisected figure was taken from me, and I was calmed by my mother, which I can only assume was a difficult feat involving tranquilizer darts. Once I was calm enough to be able to experience actual thought, my Dad sat with me with his large box of tools and whilst Christmas dinner cooked, we sat and we fixed Metroplex. Now, he never had a movable waist again, but that was okay. That time imbued old 'Plexy with more than just a wanted bit of plastic. Metroplex was a show of family, and of what can be achieved with help.