Serious fun

Now, with the greatest respect, what I had in mind was not sort of thing you’d find in an Argos catalogue, which just needs a pack of AA batteries to plug and play – and will chew its way through two more packs by the end of Christmas Day, break, and be landfill by New Year. No. The radio-controlled car I had in mind was a reissue of the one that was the smash hit of my childhood: the Tamiya Grasshopper.

Could it prove to be the glue that would attract him to all things four-wheeled during such a formative time? Would it be more successful than riding shotgun in a variety of exotic test cars, playing Gran Turismo or visiting motor races and classic car shows over the years, none of which had especially fired his imagination?

There was only one way to find out; check the bundle prices online and ask the mother-in-law nicely whether she’d be happy to stretch to a model for Dad. I mean Henry.

If you’re my age or older, you may recall that the Grasshopper was a huge hit for Tamiya. The Japanese model manufacturer began making wooden battleship models in 1948, turned to increasingly popular plastic kits in 1960 and added its first car, a 1/24^th scale Jaguar D-Type slot car, in 1965. But it’s a 1/12^th scale Porsche 934 – inspired by the RSR Group 4 racing car – that was the first radio-controlled model car from Tamiya, in 1976.

The 1/10^th scale Grasshopper was released in 1984 with the intention of creating an affordable, approachable build-it-yourself kit for first-time hobbyists who’d never before attempted to screw together an ‘RC’ car. Its modestly powerful motor was chosen with those in mind who weren’t entirely au fait with handling a joystick controller, the lower speeds – circa 11mph – making it easier to get to grips with.

It was in instant hit, and its chassis went on to form the basis for numerous subsequent Tamiya kits. Re-released in 2005 with the sort of subtle improvements time brings, it’s available at a model shop near you or online, and a complete kit with all you need to take to the garden, driveway or local park is included for £150. (See it in action here.)

First things first, the wow factor. I can vouch for the excitement generated during the unwrapping of the box set. And that was just me. The immediate question was, when can we build it? Frustratingly for a 10-year-old, the answer was, unless we cancel Christmas for 12, we’ll have to start the day after Boxing Day.

Tamiya states that the kit is suitable for children above 14, but do not let that dissuade you. With guidance from me, a mechanical moron, there was nothing Henry couldn’t accomplish during the build. Those who’d done it before reckoned it would take around six to seven hours to assemble all the bits. We chose to spread that over the space of a week, doing roughly an hour a day to pace things out and tackle one stage at a time, rather than splurge it all at once and make mistakes as we rushed to the finish line.

And I’ll tell you this: having an hour of my son’s time, uninterrupted and free from the daily distractions of work and chores for me and school and homework for him, for a whole week, was possibly the greatest gift of all that came with the Tamiya Grasshopper.

Whether this was at the forefront of Shunsaku Tamiya’s mind – the son of founder Yoshio Tamiya, and the driving force behind the Grasshopper – when he travelled to California and watched some off-road buggy racing in the late 1970s, is not recorded. Shunsaku’s obsessive attention to detail is said by those in the modelling community to be stuff of legend. To make an accurate model of the Porsche 911, he bought himself a 911 and had it dismantled in-house to scrutinise every detail. Once finished, nobody at Tamiya had the expertise to reassemble it, so technicians from Porsche Japan had to be called in.

Back at my build, there was talk online of buying the correct tools and kit to become a proper model car constructor. To hell with such extravagance! You think I have money to burn, raising three kids with one at university? Corners would have to be cut – and they duly were.

That consisted of raiding screwdriver heads from a Halfords 150-piece socket set and a pair of pliers and cutters from my battle-weary DIY tool box. As for sourcing a miniature screwdriver, I dug out one of the many that we’ve accumulated from Christmas crackers over the years. However, my favourite bit of money-saving improvisation was using a chopping board as a modelling mat.

A few ground rules had to be laid down, notably concerning the cutting knife. Henry’s immediate reaction was to do his best ninja impression and slash at the air with the razor-sharp Stanley. What is it with boys and their toys? During the first couple of sessions we also had the odd pep talk about patience and perseverance. But generally, he enjoyed working those fine motor skills (no pun intended). He also enjoyed making me feel old by taking back control whenever my sausage fingers and deteriorating eyesight had me reaching for a headtorch. (Yes, really. It’s a useful bit of kit to have to hand.)

The illustrated instruction manual was generally clear enough for us for us to follow, although there were instances – such as wiring up the radio receiver, speed controller, motor and steering – where we turned to YouTube, particularly the Fast Freddie RC channel.

To my immense surprise, given my aforementioned mechanical ineptitude, the completed car worked. Sort of…

During Henry’s first test drive, it became apparent all was not as it should be. The throttle stick was steering and the steering stick was, well, you guessed it. I’d plugged the wires to the motor the wrong way round because the colours in the instructions didn’t correspond to our kit. Further trial and error with the receiver was required because the car was travelling faster in reverse than forward. But to our immense satisfaction, we cracked it.

Then came the good bit: the car’s first run in the forest. There’s a sense of ‘mission accomplished’ as you watch your lad get to grips with drifts, donuts and improvised jumps off mud banks, or he asks you to drive the car while he has a running race against it. On that cold winter’s day I was warmed by a glow of thinking this could be the beginning of a journey that brings a much-needed member of the next generation into our hobby.

During the build Henry learned the basics about how cars work and what parts do which job. He’d built a gearbox, greased simple (friction) shock absorbers, assembled split-rim wheels, fine-tuned the toe angle of the front wheels – and so it went on. Early in the process, he was the one nagging me to sit down and do another hour of building, and that enthusiasm never waned. We’re now waiting for the correct Tamiya paint to arrive in the post so we can finish off the body before applying the decals.

There are more sophisticated and powerful kits out there, and clubs and competitions to explore. Who knows where it might all lead? Adrian Newey grew up on a diet of Tamiya radio-controlled cars, making his first, the Honda RA273 V12, when he was nine, and later going on to experiment with his own creations in his father’s workshop. But I’m not hoping for Henry to become the next big thing in Formula 1. I’ll be happy to have more precious hours at his side, or perhaps, when he tells me he can do it on his own, admiring his application from a distance.

That said, I wonder whether it would be too much to ask the mother-in-law for a 125cc Junior kart and spares package next Christmas?