Matchbox 5-Pack of 1:64 Scale Vehicles, 5 Toy Car Collection of Real-World Replicas for Kids 3 Years Old & Up [Styles May Vary]

From: Matchbox

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is nostalgia for a simpler, less-furred existence, has procured a set of miniature metal contraptions. These so-called "Matchbox" cars are, I'll concede, of a certain heft. Their die-cast nature suggests they might survive a determined swat, unlike the usual plastic refuse that litters my domain. They are meant to be pushed, which puts the entire onus of "play" squarely on my paws. The potential for a satisfying slide across the hardwood is high, and their small size makes them ideal for a surprise ambush from under the sofa. Still, their utter lack of self-animation means they demand effort. We shall see if they are worthy of disrupting a nap.

Key Features

  • Explore and discover new worlds with a Matchbox 5-Pack of realistic toy cars and trucks
  • Each die-cast 1:64 scale vehicle features authentic details and castings and each pack has a unifying theme such as Coffee Cruisers or British Roadways
  • Multipacks include a variety of officially licensed and Matchbox original vehicles from the mainline collection
  • Matchbox encourages kids to drive their own adventures through push-around play
  • Collectors and kids 3 years old and up will want them all (Each 5-Pack sold separately.)

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The offering was presented on the living room rug, a line of five silent, colorful objects. I observed from my perch on the armchair, unimpressed. They had no flutter, no crinkle, no scent of nip. They were, to my discerning eye, utterly inert. One was a garish orange, another a sensible-looking gray sedan. My human nudged the orange one with a finger, and it rolled a few inches. I yawned, showing a flash of pink tongue and sharp white teeth, a clear signal of my profound boredom. This was an insult to my predatory instincts. Eventually, curiosity—that most vexing of feline traits—compelled me to descend. I padded silently over to the lineup, my soft gray paws making no sound on the wood floor. I sniffed the gray sedan. It smelled of cold metal and the human's hand. I gave it a tentative pat. It wobbled, its tiny wheels squeaking faintly. Pathetic. I was about to turn away and find a suitable sunbeam to grace with my presence when my tail, in an involuntary flick of irritation, connected with the orange car at the end of the line. The result was immediate and spectacular. The car didn't just tumble; it shot away from my tail, skittering across the floor with a smooth, whirring sound. It moved in a perfectly straight line, a flash of orange against the dark wood, before colliding with the baseboard on the far side of the room with a crisp, definitive *thwack*. My ears, which had been at half-mast, swiveled forward. My eyes widened. That… was a noise of consequence. A noise I had created from a distance. I stalked over to the crashed vehicle, nudging it with my nose. A new understanding dawned. These were not toys to be merely chased. They were paw-powered projectiles. Instruments for a far more sophisticated game of action and reaction. I returned to the remaining four, no longer seeing them as boring lumps of metal, but as a set of dominoes, a bowling alley, a strategic challenge. I gave the little blue truck a calculated shove, aiming it directly at the sedan. The resulting chain reaction was a symphony of miniature chaos, and I, Pete, was its conductor. The human may have bought toys for a child, but they had unwittingly delivered a physics experiment to a genius. They were worthy. Oh yes, they were most worthy.