These two toys overlapped in my play life for several years, with the former eventually being replaced entirely by the latter. But for the half decade or so that spanned the middle and end of the 1980s, my desires and games were dominated by little yellow people and blowing into the nether regions of square gray cartridges.
Red lights flash alarmingly on the head-up display as I jam the brake down as hard as I can, stopping dramatically close to the homely Walter White wip, tires screeching, ersatz Walter completely oblivious. “You weren’t actually doing anything at that point,” concedes Jeffrey Massimilla from the back seat, and he ought to know as program manager for CUE, Cadillac’s high tech infotainment system, “the car had already taken over to avoid a collision.”
This trait has inspired travels to Europe, Mexico and across the entirety of the United States. It’s inspired me to pick up and play instruments like the drums, guitar and bass. It’s pushed me into a career of journalism, which allows me to indulge and exist in a state of curiosity for the majority of my work days, thank goodness.
They pronounce a familiar word or two to the bartender, words like Bud or Miller or Coors or Heineken or Pabst, occasionally appending their request with the phrase “Lite,” and for their troubles receive essentially the same product: pale straw in color, sporting an ephemeral head, tasting of nothing much.
