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I felt that changing the discs to make it do different maneuvers meant you might as well have pushed it by hand. Was I wrong?
Shark Pack was a 1970s toy boat line from Ideal, and the big feature was its interchangeable program discs. Instead of radio control, you put in a disc, set the boat loose, and it would follow a preset pattern, turning or circling depending on which disc you used.
For the time, that was a pretty clever idea. It gave kids a way to “program” the boat before home computers and remote-control toys became common. The commercial made it look exciting, with the boats cutting through the water and changing direction on command.
Like a lot of toys from that era, the real fun probably depended on where you used it and what you expected from it. If you had a pool, pond, or enough room to let it run, Shark Pack may have been a lot of fun. If you were expecting total control, the disc-changing part may have felt a little less magical.
That’s why I’m curious. Did Shark Pack really live up to the ad, or was it one of those toys that looked better on TV?
With all it could do, there were still many other toys I wanted more. I remember seeing the commercials and thinking it looked impressive, but I wasn’t sure it would live up to the way it looked on TV.
Secret Sam was a Topper Toys spy set from the mid-1960s, right when James Bond, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and secret-agent gadgets were everywhere. The big item was the Secret Sam Attaché Case, a black briefcase that hid a toy gun setup inside. It could be used as a pistol, converted into a rifle, fitted with a silencer, and even fired from inside the case. Some versions also had a message missile and a small working camera.
So did it live up to expectations? Probably yes if you were deep into spy play and had a good imagination. But if you expected it to work exactly like a TV spy gadget, maybe not. Like a lot of toys from that era, the commercial did most of the heavy lifting.
Looking back, Secret Sam was the kind of toy that looked incredible under the Christmas tree, but the real fun depended on how much secret-agent adventure you could create around it.
Many of you asked about these when I posted the Hot Wheels advertisement. So now I have to ask: which did you have? Hot Wheels, Matchbox, Speedline, or all of them?
Speedline race cars were part of that late-19660s toy-car boom, when every company wanted a piece of the racing action. Hot Wheels had the orange track and wild colors, Matchbox had the more realistic little cars, and Speedline tried to get into the race with its own fast-looking cars and track sets.
They never became as famous as Hot Wheels, but that’s what makes them fun to remember. Some kids had the big names. Some had the off-brand or lesser-known racers. And honestly, when you were on the floor setting up races, it didn’t always matter what brand was stamped underneath. If the car was fast, it made the lineup.
For a lot of us, these little cars were more than toys. They were races across the living room, arguments over whose car won, and the beginning of a car collection before we even knew we were collecting.
The idea was great: give Barbie a haircut, style her hair, curl it, and somehow keep the fun going without ruining the doll forever. Of course, commercials always made these toys look effortless. At home, I’m guessing it depended on patience, steady hands, and whether Barbie’s hair ended up looking salon-ready or like she had just lost a fight with a brush.
But here’s what I really want to know: Did you have Barbie Cut ’n Curl? Did it actually work the way the commercial showed?
And even better, did any of you start by cutting and styling Barbie’s hair and later end up becoming a hair stylist, barber, or working in cosmetology? Sometimes those childhood toys really did point us toward what we’d do later in life.
The Swing Wing was a wonderfully weird 1960s toy introduced by Transogram Games in 1965. It was worn on your head like a little cap, with a long ribbon or tail attached. The idea was to whip your head and neck back and forth until the tail spun around like a helicopter. Think Hula Hoop, but for your head.
The commercials made it look like pure kid fun: boys and girls swinging, twisting, dancing, and making the Swing Wing fly around them. But watching it now, you can almost hear every chiropractor in America screaming.
It was supposed to be Transogram’s answer to the Hula Hoop craze, with company hopes that it might become the next big toy sensation. It didn’t.
That’s probably why people remember it now more as a “what were they thinking?” toy than a classic. It had the perfect 1960s formula: bright colors, a catchy commercial, kids moving around like crazy, and absolutely no adult in the room asking, “Should children be violently snapping their necks for fun?”
Looking back, the Swing Wing is peak retro toy madness. Simple idea, great commercial, questionable safety, and the kind of thing that makes you wonder how any of us made it out of childhood with our heads still attached
It was great the first day you got the track, but the fun didn’t stop there. A new car didn’t cost all that much, even for a kid, and suddenly the whole race changed. One new car meant new matchups, new winners, new arguments, and another reason to reset the track and try again.
Hot Wheels were introduced by Mattel in 1968, created to compete with Matchbox, but they had a completely different attitude. Matchbox cars looked more like regular cars you’d see on the road. Hot Wheels looked like something a kid dreamed up: wild colors, big wheels, racing stripes, spoilers, flames, and hot rod styling. The first line is remembered as the “Original 16” or “Sweet 16.”
And they were fast. That was the magic. Mattel built them with low-friction wheels and axles, wider hard-plastic tires, and a suspension design that helped them fly down those orange plastic tracks smoother than other little cars of the time. The Strong National Museum of Play notes that Mattel engineers wanted them to “zoom,” using thick plastic mag wheels, minimal-friction axles, and torsion-bar suspension.
Then came the tracks. If you got a new setup, like the one with the Super Charger, it worked with the track you already had. That was the genius of it. You didn’t have to start over. You just added on. A curve here, a loop there, a launcher, a jump, and suddenly your living room floor became Daytona, Indy, and a demolition derby all at once.
Looking back, Hot Wheels were a great value because every piece made the whole thing better. One car could change the race. One track set could change the whole afternoon. And for a kid, that little orange track and one fast car were enough to make the whole room feel like a speedway.
Back when G.I. Joe wasn’t something you could lose under the couch in five seconds… it was a full-blown 12-inch soldier you could actually hold onto. That’s what I grew up with. My dad was a Marine, so yeah, there was no question I was getting one. But let me tell you, on a Marine’s pay, those accessories might as well have been locked up in Fort Knox (with Joe guarding it). You made do with what you had… and honestly, it didn’t matter.
Now here’s something people don’t always think about… G.I. Joe first came out in 1964, and not long after, the mood in the country started shifting. You started hearing more anti-war sentiment as the years went on. They didn’t dwell on it in the toy aisle, but you could feel the change happening in the background.
And yeah… they were already calling it an “action figure” when I got mine, I think it was 1966, and I remember that so well because my older brother wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. He kept busting me, telling me I was playing with dolls. And I’d fire right back every time, “It’s not a doll, it’s an action figure!” Didn’t matter how many times I said it… I wasn’t winning that battle.
Because those big Joes just felt right. These weren’t little plastic guys either. They were about a foot tall and had real cloth uniforms you could swap out (my wife is ribbing me just now, saying she was able to do that with her Barbie and Ken dolls). If you were lucky enough to have the gear, you could outfit them for just about anything. And they took off like a rocket. First year, around 16.9 million dollars in sales. Next year, over 36 million. That’s big money for back then. These things were everywhere… every kid knew what G.I. Joe was.
Now I get why they eventually made them smaller. Those big figures weren’t cheap to make, and by the 70s, things were changing. Then Star Wars hit in ’77 and flipped the whole toy world on its head. Smaller figures, vehicles, playsets… suddenly, you could build an entire world instead of just having one guy. From a business standpoint, it made total sense. Cheaper to make, more to sell.
But here’s the thing… it just wasn’t the same.
And I know exactly what you mean when you say it’s hard to explain. Those 12-inch Joes had some weight to them. They felt more real. The cloth uniforms made a difference. It was like you had your one guy, and you were sending him out on missions. The smaller ones were fun, no doubt, but they felt more like pieces of a bigger set instead of your figure.
So let me ask you…
Am I the only one who feels this way, or did those full-size G.I. Joes just hit different?
And be honest… were you one of the lucky ones with all the accessories… or were you like me, arguing with your brother that it wasn’t a doll while still making it work with what you had and having a blast anyway?
