LEGO F1 Collectible Race Cars 6 Pack - Building Set for Boys and Girls, Ages 6+ - Birthday Gift Idea for Racing Fans - Mystery Box with 6 Surprise F1 Model Cars - Great Travel Toy - 66796

From: LEGO

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have acquired a box of what I can only describe as deconstructed mice. Apparently, these are "LEGO F1 Race Cars," which require assembly. This means my human will spend a significant amount of time hunched over a table making clicking noises, a period I can use for uninterrupted napping. The final products are tiny, hard plastic vehicles with wheels that move. While the multitude of tiny pieces is a clear hazard and utterly beneath my notice, the potential for a completed car to be batted across the hardwood floor holds some minor appeal. However, their "collectible" nature suggests they are destined for a high shelf, making the entire enterprise a pointless exercise in admiring dust-gatherers from afar.

Key Features

  • BUILD AN F1 RACING FLEET – Kids ages 6 and up can experience the thrill of the race track with a set of 6 mini LEGO F1 race car building sets
  • 6 OF 12 TOY CARS – This mystery box contains a random assortment of 6 collectible toy cars, and may include the RB20, Mercedes-AMG, Ferrari, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, Williams, VCARB, Sauber, Haas, F1 car or F1 ACADEMY car
  • AUTHENTIC RACING DETAILS - Each LEGO car is decked out with F1 team colors, with team logos, a team helmet in the cockpit and moving wheels so F1 fans can stage exciting races
  • INSPIRE CREATIVE PLAY – Boys and girls can dream up fast-paced action and enjoy hours of independent play
  • GIFT IDEA FOR FORMULA 1 FANS – This limited-time, 6 car set makes a wonderful birthday gift for boys and girls and is a fun addition to a racing fan's car collection
  • BUILD, COLLECT, PLAY & DISPLAY – Collect all 12 of these LEGO F1 race cars - they can be put on display or used to create thrilling race action
  • DIMENSIONS - Contains 174 pieces

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ritual began with the rustling of plastic, a sound that usually heralds the arrival of treats, but this time it was different. Dry. Soulless. My human spread the contents of six small bags across the coffee table, creating a chaotic mosaic of brightly colored specks. Beside this mess, six small booklets were laid out like sacred scrolls. I watched from the arm of the velvet chaise, my tail giving a single, irritated flick. This was no offering to me. This was some strange, solitary rite of construction. The human would pick up a tiny brick, consult the scroll, and press it onto another with a quiet *click*. A low hum of concentration filled the room, a frequency that sets my fur on edge. After what felt like an eternity, the first idol was complete. It was a minuscule thing of blue and pink, what the human called an "Alpine." It was placed at the edge of the table, a tiny, silent sentinel. Then another was built, and another. A whole squadron of these little effigies soon stood in a neat row: a garish red one, a sleek silver one, a vibrant green one. They were an army of inedible bugs, and they were trespassing on what was clearly prime lounging territory. The human seemed immensely proud of this silent, motionless fleet, which served no discernible purpose. It was, I concluded, the pinnacle of foolish human endeavors. My chance came when the human departed to the kitchen, no doubt to acquire sustenance after such a taxing and pointless effort. I flowed from the chaise onto the table with liquid grace, my paws making no sound on the polished wood. I sniffed at the nearest car, the green "Aston Martin." It smelled of plastic and human hands. Utterly unappetizing. I nudged it with my nose, testing its resolve. It wobbled, then rolled forward a few inches. My ears perked. A reaction. This was unexpected. The prey was not entirely inert. With a newfound curiosity, I selected my target: the silver "Mercedes." It looked the fastest. I drew back a paw, claws carefully sheathed, and gave it a firm, deliberate *thwack*. The result was glorious. The little car shot across the length of the table, a silent silver bullet, before launching into the air and disappearing into the dark abyss beneath the sofa. There was a faint, satisfying clatter. When the human returned, I was busy inspecting a stray sunbeam, the picture of innocence. The little car was gone, vanished as if it had never been. The human sighed, but I knew the truth. This wasn't a toy to be looked at. It was a challenge. A game of hide-and-seek, and I had just won the first round. The rest of the fleet had best be prepared. Their time would come.