I Blame the Visible V8 for My Muscle Car Affliction Without Regret

With a birthday staring me in the face a couple of weeks ago, I told myself that I wanted to buy a birthday gift that was practical. It wasn't just a thought. There was actually an audible conversation with myself that raised more questions about my overall sanity. Be that as it may, I ended up buying a rather expensive watch that is anything and everything but practical. It has been a long time since I have been concerned about what day of the week it is, much less what time it is at any given moment.

Soon after my birthday passed, I reflected on past birthdays trying to recall if I had ever received a 'practical gift. I was a huge model car builder from as far back as I can remember, spending hours meticulously detailing models well beyond just simply painting parts and gluing them together. While there were jocks, stoners, and metalheads doing their thing after school, I could not wait to get home and work on my models ranging from hot rods to factory models.

I especially liked the model car kits made by Revell because of the quality of plastic parts they included in their models and the resemblance they shared with the actual models they were replicating. Over the years, I must have put together 100s of 1/16 model cars, and at one point, I grew tired of the small scale.

That is where the Visible V8 enters the story (see the video below). Hobby shops in the states were similar to liquor stores in one specific way, believe it or not. The least expensive commodity-type smaller scale models were stocked on the lower shelves while the bigger, more expensive models were on the upper shelves, just as the cheaper liquors and wines are on the lower shelves.

To say the least, I had to have it! It was out of my price range, but I made sure that everybody knew it was what I wanted for my birthday, and sure enough, when that day came around, that was what I received. I didn't care that the Visible V8 was my only gift, it was the only one I wanted, and I jumped right in to get it done.

It came in one-quarter scale, and when properly assembled, it would turn just like a functioning V8 engine. Turning the crank handle would spin the camshaft, which in turn would actuate the pushrods and rocker arms. In expected Revell fashion, the injection molded parts needed very little trimming and fit together perfectly. The clear styrene parts, including the block, oil pan, and valve covers, were free of any blemishes. Several of the parts came molded in color, eliminating the need for painting.

It took me no time at all to put it together, but I do vividly remember being completely transfixed during the process as to why these parts fit together and the relationship they had with adjoining parts. At one point, everything clicked in my head, and the gearhead phase of my life began leaving behind my model car-building hobby.

However, one problem arose. Once completed, how long can a young man on the cusp of puberty crank a plastic see-through model engine over before boredom sets in? Truthfully, in less time it took to cook a Swanson's chicken pot pie in the oven (microwaves were yet to exist).

Much to my Father's dismay, I became confident and maybe borderline cocky and thought I knew all I needed to move on to wrenching on my Father's 1970 Ford Bronco I previously wrote about on autoevolution. However, there is a happy ending: my Father was not a mechanic but a computer guy. As a result, together, we learned how to perform oil changes, tune-ups, change belts, and at one point, even managed to change the water pump on the 302 V8.

Sadly, wrenching on the real thing regulated the Visible V8 to the garage, where it did what things do when put in that sort of environment; collected dust.

I am unsure of its ultimate fate, but I can attest that the Visible V8 helped me graduate into the real automotive world and brought me as close as I could get to a cranky Irish father.