The Tamiya Journey Journal

If someone asked me which purchase accidentally changed my life this year, I’d probably point to a tiny white plastic car with purple wheels.

My first Mini 4WD wasn’t something I planned to buy.

It was June 13, 2026, and my fiancée and I had just finished celebrating our anniversary with dinner at Blackbird in the Nielson Tower. Since the night was still young and Glorietta was just a short walk away, we decided to stroll around the mall before heading home.

As we were walking, my fiancée asked if there was anything I wanted as a little anniversary keepsake. We always passed by Brickyard whenever we were in Glorietta, and I figured it would be nice to have something I could point to years from now and say, “We got that on our anniversary.”

So I asked if we could stop by.

She happily agreed, although I think she was a little confused about why I wanted a toy.

Little did I know, I was about to fall into a rabbit hole.

We walked into Brickyard just before closing, and it was surprisingly quiet. There were only a few staff members left, which meant I had the entire wall of Tamiya kits to myself.

And honestly…

I had no idea there were this many.

I knew what Tamiyas were because I had one as a kid. I could recognize some of the classic designs, but standing there, I realized the hobby had never really gone away. There were modern-looking cars, different chassis, different colors, and shelves full of boxes I had never seen before.

“They still make these?” I remember thinking.

Since the store was about to close, I didn’t have much time to think. I quickly looked over the shelves and picked the one that caught my eye the most.

I didn’t know what an FM-A chassis was.

I didn’t know anything about chassis, actually.

I just thought it looked cool.

The moment we got home, I opened the box.

I was expecting a toy.

Instead, I found dozens of neatly organized plastic parts, tiny screws, gears, rollers, stickers, and an instruction manual that somehow looked both intimidating and exciting.

Something immediately clicked.

My fiancée lent me her nail trimmers so I could cut the plastic pieces from the runners, and I slowly worked my way through the instructions one step at a time.

I don’t know why…

But there was something incredibly satisfying about watching loose pieces of plastic slowly become a functioning machine. Every screw had a purpose. Every gear fit somewhere. Every little click when two parts snapped together felt rewarding.

For someone with stubby fingers, putting everything together wasn’t exactly easy, especially the stickers.

But I didn’t care.

I was having way too much fun.

Eventually…

I was done.

I didn’t even own a track yet, so I grabbed some batteries from the air conditioner remote, put them in, and set the Geo Glider loose on my bedroom floor.

It ran for maybe three seconds before smashing straight into the wall.

I didn’t care.

It worked.

My tiny plastic car actually worked.

I picked it up, turned it over, spun the wheels, took the body off, put it back on, and just admired it for a while.

I must’ve done that twenty times that night.

I had built something from nothing.

And I was hooked.

After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I started looking up the FM-A chassis online and quickly learned that it was only one of many different chassis Tamiya had made over the years.

Then I discovered there were hundreds of different bodies, different motors, different gear ratios, and an entire community of people who had been enjoying this hobby for decades.

I honestly couldn’t believe it.

The cartoon I watched as a kid was still alive.

I looked back at my Geo Glider sitting on my desk and realized something.

This wasn’t just another impulse purchase.

I had already started wondering what my next build would be.

A different chassis.

A different design.

A different experience.

I had no idea where this hobby would take me.

But I had a feeling it was going to be around for a very long time.

Historian’s Note

Looking back, it’s funny how little I knew.

At the time, I couldn’t tell you the difference between an FM-A and an MA chassis. I had never heard of Brickyard. I didn’t know there were races, BMAX builds, or even an entire community built around these tiny cars.

I just saw a cool-looking box with purple wheels.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

One small, seemingly random purchase can end up becoming the start of a journey you never saw coming.