Have you heard the story about the SR-71?

"BJ" (benjamin-bignell) 05/29/2018 at 09:22 • Filed to: Lego, Blackbird

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No no no, not that one. The Lego Blackbird!

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More details on Brothers Brick, and pictures on !!!error: Indecipherable SUB-paragraph formatting!!! .

shop-teacher > BJ 05/29/2018 at 09:42

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That’s awesome!

facw > BJ 05/29/2018 at 10:36

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RamblinRover Luxury-Yacht > BJ 05/29/2018 at 11:11

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I don’t know of any ludicrous building projects so I can’t participate in today’s QOTD, but it did remind me of my favorite Room 71 story.

This is an expanded excerpt from Bryant Preschool’s book Kid Driver : Legoing the World’s Totally Fastest Jet. (which happens to be out of print and ludicrously expensive now, I wish I had bought a copy when I could have afforded it).

There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an Room 71, but we were the loudest guys in the block and loved reminding our fellow kindergarteners of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to play jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe pretending that one is a plane. Intense, maybe. Even “BRRRNEEEOOOOAAWWWWW”. But there was one day in our play experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were finishing our final LEGO assembly. We needed 10 more two-studs on the jet to complete our toy and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere around Castle Playmobil we had collected the decile piece. We had made the turn in Alphabet Mat and the jet was performing flawlessly. My juice had me wired, standing in a seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying hall missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten minutes. Ripping across the barren floor LITERALLY HUNDREDS of feet below us, I could already see the coast of Camel Puzzle from the Alphabet Mat border. I was, finally, after many humbling minutes of shouting and sitting, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the blue seat. There he was, with no really good imagination of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different red cars. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of my red car, as during my entire schooling career I had controlled my own collection. But it was part of the division of duties in this play area and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the blue telephone while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the handset, a skill that had been honed sharply with days talking to Ernie and Oscar the Grouch where the slightest miscue was grounds for hanging up. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.

Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the toy service station’s working elevator up and monitored the cars along with him. The predominant chatter was from Landon Carter, far below us, controlling daily traffic in his sector. While he had us on his scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled garage space and normally would not have to use the toy carwash unless we needed to descend down the ramp.

We listened as the shaky voice of a lone sedan holder asked Carter for a readout of his ground speed. Carter replied: “OKAY Charlie, I think that one can go A HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR on the GROUND.”

Now the thing to understand about Carter’s control, was that whether he was talking to a rookie playmate with a sedan, or about the Kozy Koupe, he always spoke in the exact same, calm, exact, professional tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Helping Teacher voice.” I have always felt that after days of seeing dads who like, go into space, and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the teachers, that all other kids since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the room we would be playing in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to playgroups everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Mr.Josh, or at least like Mr. Burke. Better to die than sound bad in the homeroom.

Just moments after the sedans inquiry, Molly Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for her horse’s speed. “I THINK HORSES CAN GO ABOUT... *TWO* HUNDRED.” Boy, I thought, Beech really must think she is dazzling her toy car brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy-shirted kid with a Transformer helicopter came up on frequency. You knew right away he was a jock because he sounded very cool when he did Megatron sounds. “LANDON, how fast do AUTOBOTS GO?” Before Carter could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Transformer knows his toy can, like, FLY IN SPACE, so why is he asking Carter for an opinion? Then I got it, ol’ Transformer here is making sure that every bug eater from Whitney to Moe Harvey knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the recess today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having with his new Whirl. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Davey, I think herlacopters are way faster than horses. Duh.”

And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the Lego jet, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the red cars. Still, I thought, it must be done - in a couple of minutes we’ll be back to numbers and the opportunity will be lost. That Whirl must die, and die now. I thought about all of our politeness training and how important it was that we developed well as a class and knew that to jump in on the playset now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.

Somewhere, on the table next to the garage, there was a kid screaming behind his curls. Then, I heard it. The click of the red Ferrari’s wheels from the top deck. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Hey, Carter, what if this one is IN BRIAN’S LEGO FIGHTER JET?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Well, fighters are the fastest thing IN THE WURLD and the RED CAR would make it faster, so like six hundred forty-two.”

I think it was the forty-two that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Carter to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he set the Ferrari on my jet to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Hey, Carter, I think it could probably be seven hundred.”

For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Landon Carter voice, when he.came back with, “Okay, Walter, I guess.it can be seven hundred. Jets are really fast.”

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable engagement, the kid with the Transformer had been flamed, all owners of toy cars on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work. We never heard another call on the Sesame Street phone all the way to the coast.

For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

Smallbear wants a modern Syclone, local Maple Leafs spammer > RamblinRover Luxury-Yacht 05/29/2018 at 11:55

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BJ > RamblinRover Luxury-Yacht 05/29/2018 at 21:58

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Jeezus H Christmas, I nearly cried. That was beautiful.