Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has erected a monument to inefficiency. It is a garish, five-story plastic structure they call a "Transportation Center," ostensibly for the purpose of rolling tiny metal contraptions down ramps. It features a hand-cranked lift, which seems like a lot of work for very little reward, and a helipad that triggers some sort of gravity-fed cascade. Frankly, the entire edifice seems like a flimsy perch at best. The only redeeming qualities are the small, eminently battable objects that come with it—a taxi, a boat, and a helicopter. These morsels show promise for being skittered across the hardwood and eventually lost to the void beneath the sofa, which is the highest honor a small object can achieve. The main tower, however, is an utter waste of vertical space.
Key Features
- The Matchbox Transportation Center packs loads of adventure in one exciting playset.
- The 5-level parking garage includes a kid-powered lift and gates for dynamic storytelling. It can also be used for storage, holding up to 12 1:64 scale vehicles. (One 1:64 scale car, boat and helicopter are included. Additional vehicles sold separately.)
- Land the included helicopter on the rooftop helipad, press down and send the line of vehicles through the garage and out onto the street.
- Drive over to the seaport to catch the next ferry or take off on a boating adventure. The dock opens to expand the set, creating a pier for watercraft.
- This playset includes a 1:64 scale taxi, helicopter and boat to fully explore each mode of transportation.
- Includes a mini food cart vendor for additional storytelling possibilities.
- The Transportation Center can connect to other Matchbox and Hot Wheels sets for open-ended adventures and is ideal for kids 3 years old and up. (Additional playsets sold separately.)
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It arrived in a box of lies, promising "loads of adventure." I watched from my perch on the armchair, feigning disinterest as the Provider assembled the brightly colored plastic skeleton. It wasn't a toy. My instincts, honed by generations of discerning predators, told me this was something else entirely. This was a communications array. The tower, with its five levels, was clearly a signal amplifier. The ramps were deployment chutes for ground-based drones. The rooftop helipad? The primary antenna. My human's child, the small one they call "Timmy," was not a child at all. He was The Operator. I watched as The Operator began the ritual. He placed the yellow drone, disguised as a "taxi," at the summit. He cranked the lift, a low hum of machinery I recognized as the device charging up. Then, he placed the whirlybird drone on the antenna and pressed down. A sharp *click* echoed, and the yellow drone was released, careening down the chutes in a pre-programmed pattern. The Operator made low vocalizations—"Vrooom! Beep beep!"—obvious coded messages being broadcast to some unseen recipient. He even deployed the "boat" from the "seaport," an aquatic probe sent on a mission I could only guess at. This was an invasion, and I was the only one who saw it. Action was required. I could not allow this broadcast to continue. Waiting until The Operator was distracted by a juice box, I slunk from the armchair, my gray-and-white tuxedo a blur of silent purpose. The structure loomed over me, a beacon of alien intent. I couldn't topple the whole thing; that would be too obvious. I needed to engage in sabotage. My eyes narrowed, scanning the array. The primary ground drone, the yellow taxi, was the key. Its mission had to be scrubbed. With the grace of a shadow, I leaped onto the second-level ramp. The plastic groaned slightly but held. The Operator was still occupied. Perfect. I gave the yellow taxi a precise, calculated tap with my paw. It flew from the ramp, skittering across the wooden floor with a satisfying clatter. The broadcast was interrupted. I pounced, pinning the drone beneath my paw, its silent transmission silenced forever. I then picked it up gently in my mouth—my trophy, my evidence—and carried it to my debriefing area under the chaise lounge. The Transportation Center is a grave threat, to be sure, but its components are surprisingly easy to neutralize. I will remain vigilant. And I will keep this little yellow car. For... interrogation.
