Good Enough

It just occurred to me that the two items I ordered late last week – the Vintage Club Weather Girl Grace, and the Stablemates Club Finn – are both Gambler’s Choice items. I just paid out a decent chunk of money and I have no idea what I’ll be getting.

Out of the 12 different possible combinations (three of the Grace, four of the Finn) that is.

And you know what? I’m fine with that. I grew up during the “picture box” era of Breyer collecting – pre-1985 – and most of the time you had no idea what you’d actually be getting inside that box. It wasn’t just a solid, opaque cardboard box either: they were shrinkwrapped too!

(Handpicking? Hah!)

Breyer was in something of an experimental phase with retail packaging in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Prior to then, toy stores generally kept out display pieces, and you had to ask the clerk to bring you your selection from their backstock.

By the end of the 1970s, most stores – toys or otherwise – had switched to a self-service mode as a cost-saving measure, which necessitated a move to more decorative and informative packaging.

The history of Breyer packaging is, of course, much more complicated than that, but I don’t have the time or the mind to deal with the intricacies today. Another day, perhaps.

Aside from the packaging issues, a lot of the time you couldn’t trust the catalogs or manuals, either. Case in point: the Stock Horse Stallions from the 1981 Dealer’s Catalog:

Well, okay, I am still a little mad about that one: I want that minimally-marked Black Pinto San Domingo, dangnabit! I probably have a slightly better chance of acquiring one of the numerous Stock Horse Stallions Tests, like this one:

Seriously, there’s like a bajillion different Black Pinto Stock Horse Stallions out there, and I like them all better than the pinto we actually got, but that just might be a “wanting what you can’t have” thing. Or that I’m always up for another Test Color or Oddity, no matter the mold or color. I already have two Stock Horse Stallion Tests, and don’t really need another.

But back to the original point: everyone has gotten very spoiled since the advent of display boxes. We can be picky now, instead of later!

However, the ability to be pickier isn’t necessarily a good thing, especially if we find ourselves becoming so picky that nothing less than perfection is good enough. And since perfection is an arbitrary and abstract concept, what happens is that eventually, no model is ever good enough.

The perfect is the enemy of the good. 

I’m not saying y’all should accept a substandard model, but sometimes, life is easier and a lot less stressful if we just accept that everything comes occasional ding or flaw, whether we like it or not.

Exceptional and Ordinary

The most recent arrivals are not as dirty as the first, but also a bit on the boring side; these are among the nicest of the bunch:

Yep, a Bay Running Foal and a Palomino Rearing Stallion, neither one high on anyone’s want list. Both are standard issue models from the early 1970s: not Chalky, with no molding or painting anomalies.

They are, however, in excellent condition with positively superb shading and coloring. If you’re looking for a quality example of either piece, these are about as nice as they get.

They have that velvety matte finish typical of non-Chalky models from that era too, which is understandably hard to find in mint condition. I’m almost too afraid to touch them, less they pick up a stray burnish mark or two that would mar that appealing softness.

Models like this – simultaneously Exceptional and Ordinary – can be a tough sell, especially online. If hobbyists are going to spend extra for a “premium” example of a common model, they’re not going to go halfway: they’re going to go for the works. That means stickers, boxes, signatures, and unusual (Chalky, Pearly, Glossy) finishes.

Models that are just happen to be really nice…are sort of the silver medalists of the model horse world. You’re going to take it if you can get it, of course, but forever second to the real winner who might be just over the horizon.

So I’ll reserve these guys for either BreyerFest or a live show/swap meet situation, where hobbyists can see just how nice they are in person – and who may not be so willing to cough up the sometimes-insane prices the “Superpremium” models can bring.

(Same thing happens in comic books: the price cliff between “Mint” and “Fine” is a steep one, even if the aesthetic or technical differences are minimal.)

Keeping these two for myself doesn’t seem likely: I have a nice Rearing Stallion in Palomino already, and as far as the Running Foal goes, I’d really rather find one that’s a better match for my semi-gloss Mare with eyewhites.

Dimples

The one actual nice piece from that box of horrors: a mostly lovely Woodgrain Five-Gaiter!

Woodgrains are almost as hard to find as Blue and Gold Decorators in my part of the world, which I find odd; near as I can figure, retailers either didn’t sell them in this area, or buyers weren’t interested. Any time I bring home a Woodgrain that isn’t a Family Arabian or Fighting Stallion, it’s usually cause enough for dancing. Or cake.

I described this Five-Gaiter as mostly lovely: he does have condition issues. Some are the usual minor condition problems that show up with most vintage models found “in the wild”: eartip rubs, hoof rubs, a few high point nicks and dings. Nothing significant or out of the ordinary.

He also has two factory condition issues. The first you can’t really make out in the photos, but his graining coat is slightly pixilated. Basically, that paint/stain was either a little too wet, or the conditions in the factory were just a little bit too humid, causing the paint to bead.

It’s not the same thing as the bubbling that sometimes occurs on Woodgrains, but it is probably related somehow. I’m not planning on testing the theory: I plan on keeping him cool, clean and dry as long as he’s an occupant of this house.

His other problem is a little more amusing:

He has matching butt dimples! More precisely, these are sink marks: indentations in molded plastic that sometimes occur in thick-walled or solid areas of plastic, primarily due to uneven cooling rates. Basically, the plastic starts to cool before that section of the mold is completely filled, pulling it away from the mold wall.

Sink marks are not an uncommon thing to find in Breyer models, especially in the 1970s; just about every Proud Arabian Mare that I ever owned had them on their hooves. Sink marks this big – and matching! – are a little less common.

Both sides of the mold are molded simultaneously, so the fact that they “match” shouldn’t surprise: each side has a similar wall thickness, and experienced the same amount of heat, pressure, and so on. It’s the degree and the placement of those sink marks that surprises, and amuses.

Many naughty euphemisms come to mind. I’ll be good and leave those to your imagination.

Top of the Heap

One of the things that I bought that I was hoping was awesome? It’s awesome!

Mint in box Chalky Clydesdale Stallion with the original 1974 Collector’s Manual – and bag! I think I can say that I’ve reached the top of the upgrade heap with this guy.

The funny thing is that he’s not my first MIB Chalky; my first was a Chestnut Belgian – which I bought primarily because he looked like a pretty nice MIB Belgian, not because I hoped he was a Chalky. I thought he might be, but at the price I was getting him at it didn’t matter. That he was was just a bonus.

The Clydesdale I did buy under the assumption that he was – which is not something I do very often, because judging Chalkies by slightly blurry online photos is an always-iffy proposition. I shelled out the little bit extra cash (for me) because I figured he was at least a semi-safe bet: in every other regard, he was a premium, high-end piece.

This is where the market is now going with Vintage pieces, anyway: the more bells and whistles, the better. White Picture Box? Check. Original Collector's Manual? Check. Original Bag? Check. Near mint condition? Check. 

Chalky? BINGO!

Even the roughest of Chalkies will always have a value – just as beat-up, coverless copies of key Golden Age comic books still have a greater-than-nominal value. But as with many collectibles from the modern era, better is better.  

Model horse collectors aren’t big on the concept of “patina”, outside of exceptions that fall either into the category of amusing (the heavily bloated, the heavily yellowed, or the disturbingly warped) or the exceptionally precious (Decorators, Test Colors, our childhood carpet herds).

It’s always funny whenever an antiquer tries to sell a body-quality Breyer that way. Luckily for me, it doesn’t happen too much around here any more; if it does, it’s usually someone new to the area who has not yet been schooled by the locals.

Now to dig out the Chalky Clydesdale I upgraded from – who is not too shabby himself, but Mint In Box he’s not.

Judgment Calls

I got lucky on eBay last week a scored a good - and cheap! - body box lot. When I mean good, I mean it included (a) better than average Classics, and (b) a couple of bodies I could use. Also included in this lot were these two pieces:

The Running Foal is a very loved and abused Chalky from the 1970s; it was the most damaged item in the lot, naturally. Yet in today’s superheated Chalky market, even a model in this condition is worth something.

That wasn’t the case even a few years ago, when I found myself selling a very sad-looking Chalky Adios to someone who fully intended on customizing it. I really didn’t have much of a choice in that matter; I needed the money, and no one else seemed interested in him.

As far as other models that fit this equation - rare, but trashed - I really don’t have a firm opinion on what should be done with them. Of course I’d rather have someone keep them Original Finish, but body quality is body quality: sometimes you have to let a few go.

In regards to the question of restoration, I am neither for it, nor against it. My personal preference is for minimal restoration: repair the breaks, unyellow it, clean it up, stabilize it (add a leg to stand on, if necessary). I might do a few touch ups, as long as they’re not obtrusive.

But if someone wants to do a full restore on him, I’m good with that, too. Which is why this guy is going on the regular portion of my sales list, and not being tossed in the body box like the rest of the lot will be. Might as well minimize any further damage, right?

The Kelso is a little better - rough, but in a less breathtaking way. What’s interesting about him is that he’s an early Classics Racehorse without the mold mark; the first batch or two of the Racehorses didn’t get the mold stamp.

We’re not sure why the mold marks happened later - either it was forgotten in the rush to get them to market, or (my theory) they were still hammering out the legal details of the leasing contracts. This lack of a mold mark sometimes works in our favor at the flea market or yard sale: no mold mark = not a Breyer!

He has the beautiful body shading typical of the early Classics, but he also has the rough seams, burrs, fuzzy gray overspray, and sloppy detail work that was also part of the package back then.

He’s going straight to the body box, though: he’s not someone I need right now, and he’s just common enough that he doesn’t merit shelf space. He’s got excellent mold detail, and is a Love Classic, so I doubt he’ll stay in there long.

Relativity Theories

Managed to resist the siren call of Flurry - so far. If they’re still around for whatever kind of sale they’re going to have for Black Friday/Cyber Monday, that might change. Right now I’m focused on paying existing bills and making space. I’ve listed a few odds and ends on eBay and a couple of fancier pieces on MH$P; I’m hoping to get more of the same up and running at both locations by the beginning of next week. 

Another thing I don’t have to worry about? Paying for Aspen, because I didn’t get drawn. I actually entered every day on that one, with the same effect my entering only once policy has for me the year previous: Nada. I went online to check on Tuesday, and the minute I saw five - FIVE - Aspens in a row listed on MHSP, I knew it was time to go occupy myself with something in the real world.

(Wait list? Very funny. Never been pulled from one, ever. Frankly, I'm beginning to think y’all are making the whole thing up.)

I did get a box lot of a dozen models earlier this week - the price was right, and who doesn’t love opening a box full of horses? The pictures looked promising, and I thought there’d be a treasure or two worth keeping in it.

I was superexcited until I opened the box: it was a dump bin lot. All the horses were piled together at the bottom of the box, unwrapped, with a big wad of kraft paper on top occupying the bulk of the space within.

Darn nonhobbyists box lots!

At least it wasn’t newspaper. And nobody was broken. The box was new, too. Okay, maybe not so bad for a box lot after all.

Actually, the horses weren’t that bad either, once I cleaned them up. The worst of it was that none of the hoped for exotic treasures or upgrades materialized. The only one of the bunch I will probably be keeping, ironically, is the one in the worst shape: a Gloss Charcoal Family Arabian Stallion - with a sticker!

(His good side, if you can believe it.)

Years ago I bought myself a Foal in similar condition - Gloss Bay, instead of Gloss Charcoal. I thought it’d be a good thing to keep him around to remind myself - and show others, perhaps - of the relativity of value. Just because something is Glossy and Has A Sticker doesn’t mean it’s worth anything.

I just wish I could remember what I did with that crazy Gloss Palomino Family Mare I had, the one that had the factory-whittled-upon neck (with the perfect paint job, also factory!) The three of them would have made a lovely family, I think.

Come to think of it, in all my years of collecting and the thousands of models that have passed through my hands, she’s only one of three models I can say that I’ve actually misplaced. As opposed to having been stolen, lost in the mail or a part of a deal gone bad. (Did I ever tell you about the time some girl faked a near-death experience to get a model out of me? Weirdest eBay transaction ever.)

The Family Mare just…disappeared. I have no idea where she went. An otherwise ordinary #94 Chestnut Belgian that I was cleaning up in the garage one day also just went away; I suspected Mom put him a box that got tossed into the attic somewhere, but repeated attic purgings say otherwise.

The third and most recent was a #435 Secretariat, still clipped to his box backer board. I was running short of storage space in the truck from BreyerFest a few years ago, so I stuck him underneath one of the seats. That was the last time I saw him. I check underneath the seats still, hoping that whatever wormhole he fell into has reopened and redeposited him there.

(I may have more affection towards the Secretariat mold than most, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t stolen. That’s just silly talk.)

Body Box Adventures

Before I go on, I just wanted to point out that the next round of Munda auctions is up tomorrow. I actually bid on a couple this time, partly because eBay is annoying me this week. (There are a couple of very inexpensive items I am trying to acquire for a project, and I keep getting sniped. Sniped, on cheap stuff!)

We got out of work unexpectedly early yesterday, so I took that extra time to clean out my Stablemates body box. Aside from the fact that there was no way in heck I’d ever get around to working on them any time soon, my "Dollar Table" selection was looking a little skimpy. I like having a certain amount of inexpensive items for kids, cheapskates, and people who’ve already blown their budgets but still want to buy more stuff anyway.

None of them were specifically bought as bodies, but most were "comes with" box lot items. Some of I wouldn’t necessarily classify as body quality, but I decided to just sell them all that way anyway, just because I didn’t want to deal with the drama.

The most painful experiences I have had at BreyerFest - aside from the Roommate Issues, and the actual incidents of me injuring myself - have been when I’ve had to deal with people who put up big fights over condition, often over the most minor of flaws.

We’re not talking about honest pricing negotiations: these were the kinds of folks who wanted me to sell them a $40-50 Special Run for ten bucks, because of a single smudged dapple. It’s gotten to the point that if more common models with already low price points have even the tiniest of flaws, I sometimes relegate them to the body box, just so I don’t have to get into arguments with people over what constitutes a "body".

What pains me more though, are the models that aren’t so common - yet are technically classifiable as body quality.

My thinking is this: just because something is classified as body quality doesn’t necessarily mean that it should be used as a body. I have a small but significant assortment of models I’ve fished out of body boxes myself, and place on the shelf right next to LSQ Test Colors.

The problem is that the prices for pieces that are meant to be bodies - and pieces that are simply rare, but in poor condition - are indistinguishable. The price for a body-body is a reflection of its value as a "base" or armature for a new work, while the price of a body-rarity is because it still has some residual value even in spite of its condition. (A coverless, poor-quality copy of Action Comics #1 may not be worth much, for instance, but there’s certainly still a market for it.)

One particularly painful year I had a body quality Adios for sale. Normally this wouldn’t cause me much consternation, but this guy was a Chalky - a white plastic Chalky, to be precise. While Yellow Mounts are not too difficult to come by, Chalky Adioses definitely are - even in body condition.

I was reluctant to sell him, but my sales stash was quite skimpy that year, and he was a recent flea market pickup that I had not yet grown too attached to. Since he was technically quite rare, I put him on the shelves with all of my other stuff. I figured he’d be a fairly easy sell, right?

Nope. He lingered on my shelves straight up until Saturday. I’d happily chirp to anyone who looked his way about his Chalky status, and his exceeding cheapness, but no dice. This was a bit before the current Chalky craze, and it was true he wasn’t in the best shape, but I kept thinking what the heck?

When I pointed out his Chalky nature to someone who appeared to be genuinely interested in him, the expression on the (eventual) buyer’s face was clearly one of "And I should care why?" She needed it as a body, nothing more.

My first reaction was "No, you do not deserve him! Begone!" But I needed the money, and I needed the space. Who was I to deem her money unworthy? I swallowed my pride, bit my tongue, and took the money, because she was willing to at least pay the asking price.

So the way I deal with this situation now is by tossing quality models of dubious condition status into the body box. That way, if someone happens to find it and recognize it for what it is, it cheers my heart a little.

Honestly, I think I have an easier time selling models like that in the body box because, well, I am not the only one who specifically goes hunting for buried treasure there. Other hobbyists are all too eager to show me Chalkies, Pearlies, and vintage customs from famous customizers pulled out of other people’s body boxes - things that I would have been proud to add to my collection.

It happened last year, with an early Lady Phase. Some of the earliest Lady Phases, for some odd reason, come in a very white - but not truly Chalky - plastic. I don’t know if they decided to go with virgin Tenite (no regrind = minimal yellowing over time) or it was a last little remnant of Chalky white plastic mixed in with the standard semi-opaque stuff.

She was, unfortunately, very much a body: her condition much worse than the Adios, even. I’ve been running a bit of a surplus of models here, so keeping her wasn’t even remotely an option.

The person who fished her out of the box stared at her a good long while, turned her over in the lamp light several times, and then said something to the effect of "She’s something special. I think I can fix her up." 

I think I ended up selling her for the same price as the Adios. It wasn’t about the price, though.

Chewy's Tale

Another short today: just because I’m not technically working doesn’t mean I’m not busy. Plus I’m feeling a little bit of outrage fatigue over, well, everything, and I definitely need to take a break from all that.

So here’s a picture of my Siamese Kitten, the one with the funny story:

His name is "Chewy" because at some point in his life, he was used as a chew toy. It’s not all that bad, really - most of the gnawing occurred on the tail, so careful placement on the shelf renders it out of sight/out of mind, most of the time.

Several years ago I got a wild notion to take a civil service exam. Quite a few people were taking the exam - several hundred, if I’m recalling correctly - so the location of the exam was moved to a local convention center.

At the very same time - in fact, I think it was the day before - someone’s pet lion had allegedly escaped, and had been spotted wandering around the grounds near this center.

I had found it very amusing, initially, because cougars and panthers are something of an urban legend in the metro Detroit area. Every few years, there’s somebody on the news claiming they saw a panther in the woods near their house. Whenever photos or video of said creature are produced, it’s almost always either a case of mistaken identity - someone’s lost Black Lab, or an overfed housecat - or a blurry, unrecognizable smudge.

This time, however, it was no urban legend, or at least it didn’t seem so at the time. I don’t think the lion was ever located, or even confirmed to exist at all. When I got up to go to the convention center that morning, though, we were all still operating under a reasonable suspicion that it might very well be out there.

There was a small outdoor flea market that also operated on the grounds, just coincidentally on the same day of the exam. It’s not one that I went to on a regular basis, because it was a bit out of my way, and not as big (or good!) as my favorite local haunt.

One of the things that annoys me about my local flea market is that some of the dealers there tend to talk big, but flee at the slightest hint of hardship. ("I see a cloud! It’s going to RAIN!") and here were these guys - not a huge group, but a decent number - casually conducting business in spite of the fleetingly small but real threat of a BIG CAT ATTACK.

Ballsy, man. How could I not give them my business?

There were a few things there, but the only thing I found worth buying was the Siamese Kitten. He was in much worse shape even than he appears above - really yellow, and really dirty, like he had been stored in someone’s garage for the past 25 years - but he was only a dollar. It also amused me that of all the things I found at that flea market, at that particularly weird moment of time, was a Breyer Cat!

He cleaned up modestly well, and in spite of running across nicer and less chewed up versions since then, none of them have come with as awesome a rescue story as my Chewy’s. 

It's Not the Heat

Slowly grinding out those words on the novel: I’m just about caught up to where I need to be, finally. No major breakthroughs, though I think I finally figured out what to do with that painting by Nicholas Poussin.

Seventeenth Century French Classicists and Sasquatch? I know, I know, this novel has bestseller written all over it! (Actually, it seems to have more in common with that new movie The Descendants, which is completely coincidental, since I hadn’t even heard about that movie until about a week ago, and most of the notes for my novel were written about ten years ago.)

I did not win a Thrillseeker. I am okay with that, especially now that a procedure that I’ve been putting off that not related to my teeth may need to be done sooner, rather than later. Nothing serious, just a little bit beyond my budget, and my laughable insurance. I may have to sell something pricey to help pay for it, though that will have to wait until I finally get those 50,000 words out of my system.

I also have a funny feeling that Reeves has something planned within the next week, either for Black Friday or Cyber Monday. No specific intel, but it would make sense: two more web specials, a new web site launch, a couple of clubs that you need to sign up for, all allegedly by the end of the year…

I also would like to officially announce that The Toad will not be making any more public appearances. I got a good gander at him earlier this week, and good gravy, he’s gotten even scarier.

I think I’ve figured out the key component of ooziness: it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. We’ve always had minor but noticeable issues with humidity at the house - a bit too damp in the summer, a bit too dry in the winter - but The Toad became a better barometer than any gauges we had.

While heat does play a part - warm air can hold more moisture than cold air - if you have to make a choice between moderating the heat, or moderating the humidity, turn up that dehumidifier, folks. (If you need any more convincing, it’ll have the added benefit of reducing the risk of mildew, too.)

Apple Jack

Argh! My apologies to anyone who’s been expecting a reply or response from me; this novel appears to be eating my brain. There’s way more plot here than I anticipated. I have no idea where it’s all coming from. (Though I am grateful for it.)

It also made me completely forget about the Breyer Fun Day on Saturday. There was a live show this past weekend, too, but it was at least an hour and a half drive, through some fearsome traffic and construction. Just not worth the effort, especially since I wasn’t buying, selling or showing. Some serious and intense socialization would have been good for the soul, but hey. I decided to go with "novel" this month, instead. Too far in to give up now.

I did go a couple miles out of my way to buy a horse yesterday, though technically, it wasn’t for me, but a friend. It was an Apple Jack:


He does have a few flaws, but he was way better than the other one on the shelf. I’ll be stopping by another store on my way back from work on Wednesday to see if I can upgrade, and if not, no big whoop. He’s cute, but there's no shortage of cute here.

I might regret it a few months or few years from now, (as I am with the Classic Shire B, in Pinto), but I do not have infinite shelf space. I already have a couple Bouncers, including my lovely Seren, and I suspect we may be seeing another Bouncer as an SR for next year’s British-themed BreyerFest, anyway. (As a British Spotted Pony, maybe? Yes, please.)

As for the condition issues that everyone’s been freaking out about, I guess I should rephrase my commentary on my Pamplemousse a bit (which I haven’t bothered to return, and I rather doubt I will.) It wasn’t the flaws that made me question keeping him, it was the timing. Every year I think I can get a little ahead of myself in the fall, as far as my finances go, but this year - like the last few - it hasn’t worked out that way.

But when he came, well, I could think of a half-dozen more useful places the money could have been spend on, at that moment. That handful of flaws present became just a few more nits to pick.

If he were an A+ super awesome OMG oh so bee-you-tee-full paragon of perfection, it might have tamped down my apprehension a bit. But he wasn’t. Staring at that sample Pamplemousse at BreyerFest didn’t help either.

Oddly enough, some of the reactions I’ve been seeing about flaws - on both Pamplemousse, and Breyers in general - within the model horse web have provided me some much needed amusement. Oh, if only the greatest aggravation in my life was finding a couple pieces of lint on a plastic horse!

You know, I’ve been hearing that Breyers haven’t been made "the way they used to be" since I’ve been collecting, which is longer than many of you have probably been alive. (I used to buy my Stablemates at Kmart - for 99 cents apiece! You do the math.) If Breyers have truly been going down hill since then, we’d all be collecting little puddles of vaguely horse-shaped plastic by now.

The quality curve has been going up for some time; most of the quality control issues we’re seeing now are slight regressions on that upward trajectory, not some precipitous and unrecoverable drop.

Most of the production problems Reeves is going through now are a consequence of scale, not a lack of caring. They probably underestimated the demand for Pamplemousse, and in an effort to meet the demand, created an environment where some quality control issues cropped up.

It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the production demands for the Pamplemousse contributed to the relatively short - and flaw ridden - run of the Apple Jack. The production timing certainly seems about right.

Thick and Thin

If the horses I found Sunday were from the estate sale, I didn’t miss anything: ordinary pieces in ordinary condition. The prices weren’t ordinary, which is why they didn’t come home with me. What did? Just this:


A Battleship Gray Elephant. Good condition, just a couple of small rubs and a small crack on its side, pretty typical of a piece from that era (early 1960s.) I don’t know what it is about this mold, but it’s prone to little cracks and splits in the oddest places. Is it all the bumps, cracks and wrinkles built into the mold that contribute to the problem?

That would make sense, except that there are several other contemporaneous molds with rough finishes that don’t have the same problem. You don’t see it in the Donkey, or the two rough-coated Bulls. The Poodles do tend to get weird little mold flow lines or "squiggles" on their sides that sometimes turns into a crack over time, but that’s not quite the same thing, I believe.

Mold flow lines - which I might have explained before, but I’ll cover here again - are created when the leading edge of hot plastic cools in a mold during the molding process, creating a little wrinkle on the molded surface. It’s not a crack, but it does create a slight weakness in the plastic that could become a crack under the right set of circumstances.

The "right set of circumstances" that leads to cracking include rough play and handling, and storage in an uncontrolled environment (extreme changes in heat and humidity). Neither situation is likely to happen in my house, or in any of yours most likely. To put it plainly, you really shouldn’t be too concerned about finding mold flow lines on your vintage pieces. The odds of them becoming a structural problem are very, very slim.

The problem with the Poodle stems from his weight: he weighs nearly a pound! (For comparison’s sake, the Brahma Bull weighs a mere 12 ounces on average - almost a quarter pound less.) When you’re injecting that much hot plastic into a mold, you’re going to have the kind of cooling issues that lead to mold flow lines.

I strongly suspect that the Elephant’s issues stem from too little of the material, rather than the too much. If there’s not enough plastic to compensate for day-to-day changes in heat and humidity, it’s more likely that the plastic will simply split at its thinnest points, whether there are mold flow lines present or not.

I haven’t been brave enough to cut open a spare Elephant to prove my theory, though. I haven’t run across that many body-quality Elephants, either. Plus, body box Elephants are already a tough sell; cutting them in half wouldn't improve the odds.

I already have one of these fellas, so on the saleslist it goes. He shouldn’t be too expensive, when I finally put him up for sale. Battleship Grays are a bit unusual, but not particularly rare.