My X-Wing

In September of 1997 I was 15.  I had my driver’s permit, having passed Driver’s Ed a few months prior and would get my license on my birthday in a few months.  It was my brother’s birthday weekend.  My sister, who was 19, was treating us to a day of fun.  We were heading to Mountasia Golf and Games in Richland Hills.

I drove us halfway there.  No way my sister trusted me to drive her and my brother where there would be high traffic.  Seems silly now, but at the time, and from her point of view, I can see why we had to swap out.

Mountasia was awesome.  I had gone there a year before on a band trip.  It was basically an arcade and amusement park.  Plenty of burgers and pizza you could buy.  Miniature golf.  Paddle boats.  Mini coasters.  Go Karts.  Lot of things to entertain adolescents.  My freshly minted eight-year-old brother had a blast.  Yes, we played arcade games like Killer Instinct, Area 51, Marvel Super Heroes, and Cruis’n World.  Sure, we did miniature golf and got in paddle boats.  But our focus was on the redemptions games, the ones that give out tickets.

Ticket games are money suckers.  They aren’t particularly fun, but they are good at getting your competitive juices flowing.  Skee ball was always a favorite of mine.  There’s also that one where you drop a token trying to get a bunch of other tokens to drop down.  Claw and crane games.  Whack-A-Mole!  Basketball games.  Spin the wheel games.  Shooting games.  Lots of games.  Lots of choices.  They are basically carnival games with odds stacked against you.  But when you score a ton of tickets it’s like you hit the lottery.  And the whole room can see you have mad skills when that game spits out dozens of tickets from that slot. 

So, we gambled and paddled and played for a couple hours and then it was time to go.  My sister and I gave our winnings to the birthday boy and he went to the prize center.  Yes, he spent all his earnings in one place.  Why not?  This wasn’t the local arcade.  We never came here.  And you know what?  I didn’t leave empty handed.My brother got something for me.  He gave me an X-Wing!  A little micro figure on a wire connected to a suction cup.  It was awesome.  I put it on the car, whorehouse red  and it’s still with me today.  22 years later and it’s been on all my cars:

Ford Escort

Chrysler Labaron

Pontiac Grand Prix

Kia Optima

Dodge Avenger

Hyundai Tucson

Not a lot of brand loyalty there.  Bunch of cheap cars.  But, honestly, I liked them all.  And that X-Wing has been there for all of them.  22 years’ worth.  I’d estimate that it’s logged 400,000 miles.  That’s nothing compared to the Millennium Falcon, but that’s probably decent for an X-Wing.

My brother and I had seen all the Star Wars Special Editions that were released in theaters that year.  Mom or Dad would drop us off at the Majestic 6 movie theater and afterward we’d walk to the American Legion.  It’s walking distance if you cut across the field between the two places.

Star Wars meant something to us, it was a thing that was between us.  Hell, it still means something to us.  My brother named his first-born son Luke last year.  My eldest son and me?  He’s hugely into Star Wars and could probably kick my butt in Star Wars trivia. 

And, sappy as it may sound, I hope Julian’s first car has that X-Wing.  It will be breaking a streak for me, but maybe he’ll start his own streak.  Get that bad boy up to a million miles by time he’s 25.  The force will be with him.

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