TAMIYA’S A-10A THUNDERBOLT II: AN ENDURING LOVE AFFAIR

“And thus it came to pass that I was able to finally afford the one kit I had craved since the moment I saw it: Tamiya’s 1:48 A-10A Thunderbolt II”

I really can’t remember the first time I became aware of Tamiya’s range of kits. I think it might have been a gloomy afternoon in 1978. I was sat on a bus that smelled of far too many passengers and far too little deodorant. “Sarah 4 Steve” had been scrawled over the back of the seat in front of me, immortalising a long-over relationship, both would now no doubt rather forget, than immortalise in such an obvious way. I don’t even know why I was on the bus. I do remember though that it passed a sports shop in a local town, one that inexplicably sold plastic model kits amongst it’s more familiar collection of cut-price plastic training shoes, leather footballs and hold-alls that all the cool kids liked to carry with nonchalance over their right shoulders. Looking back, I imagine Steve carried one…

Anyway, trying not to be noticed by anyone else on the bus (especially the pretty girl sitting three rows in front who I would never in a million years have had the nerve to talk to) I was staring out of the window, when I noticed some kits on the upper shelf of said shop. There amongst the Airfix Spitfires and Matchbox Me109s, were some that I didn’t recognise, tanks mainly, contained in white boxes that were all emblazoned with a logo featuring two white stars on a red and blue background. I had no idea at the time that this range would play such a pivotal role in my life over the next forty years. All I did know at the time — other than wanting to get off that bus — was that I had to know what these things were…

Being a young kid at the time, I had friends who in the main had older brothers, brothers that listened to cool music from bands like The Jam, The Kinks and The Who. They spoke in rather fruity terms that I often didn’t understand, wore parkas and Harrington jackets, never said hello when a cursory nod was enough to acknowledge your presence and built models. Lots of models. Though rather unfashionable now, kids in the Seventies saw the construction of plastic kits as a pastime worthy of their attention and money. Kits could be bought from almost everywhere in the country, from the local corner shop, though hardware stores and as has been seen here, sports retailers. You didn’t really have to look too far for the latest releases, which was just as well. We didn’t have a car and I had to rely on the two shops in the village that were within walking distance for my purchases, but I digress. So, these kids – and they were kids, though seeming like the oldest people in the world at the time… – bought and built things that I had never seen and could not afford. And that’s where I first saw a Tamiya catalogue and then kit, the 1978 catalogue and their 1:20 six-wheeled Tyrrell P34. I was in heaven.

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Fast forward a few years and the now 15 year-old me had a Saturday job and the wherewithal to buy more expensive goodies. Looking back, it seemed a rather poor trade-off to cycle around half of the town cleaning cars in the snow and then spending half of my Saturday and half of my Sunday stood behind a petrol station counter serving ungrateful customers, or on the forecourt cleaning down the pumps with a soapy sponge and bucket of freezing cold water. But at least I had money in my trouser pocket and that was enough to keep me going through the indignity of it all.

And thus it came to pass that I was able to finally afford the one kit that I had craved since the moment I saw it: Tamiya’s 1:48 A-10A Thunderbolt II. The passage of time, age and my inability to retain information beyond what I had for breakfast today (a bacon sandwich, if you are interested) means that the precise location of this important purchase is something of a mystery, but I think it was a local shop called Kits & Bits, which, for some time, was the recipient of plenty of my hard-earned coins. What I do remember is that at the time it was an eye-watering amount of money: £7.99, which was a whole load of cars to clean and forecourts to sweep. Still, I bought it and then examined the Tamiya catalogue that featured Francois Verlinden’s build of the model and set about formulating a plan of how I was going to put it together, but more importantly, how I was going to paint the results. Failure was not an option! How the hell did he paint that?!

Though the model is now long-gone, I can tell you that it was painted in one of the prototype schemes, the one that looks to have been basecoated in black and then mottled with pale grey, before being trimmed in red. I seem to recall that I airbrushed the basecoat with a single-action Humbrol Spray Gun powered with one of those frosty air cans. It was then used drybrushed with layers of enamels to add the mottling and weathering – all very naive, but I loved the result and kept the model for some time. It even gained a first place at one of the IPMS UK Nationals at Stoneleigh not long after it was completed. How that happened, I’m far from sure. Maybe the judges seemed to like it as much as I did? Maybe they liked the hand painting and the traditionalists felt sorry for me?! Who knows…

And here we are in 2017 and I am about to have another go at Tamiya’s classic A-10A, now available as a ‘Lizard’ finished aircraft, rather than the prototypes offered back in 1977. Many will no doubt question the logic of tackling a kit that’s this old and this basic, but that’s not the point. To me, this kit is part of my DNA, a project that set me off on the path that I follow today – hell, it may even be the very first 1:48 kit I ever built, so that makes it even more important! Looking through the contents of the box, the mouldings are fine, the detail an odd mix of recessed and raised panel lines and features such as cockpit detail, virtually non-existent. But I don’t care. It’s one of my very favourite kits of all time and I want to replace that model that I loved so much all of those years ago. All I have to do now, is work out how to paint that mottled scheme, because I don’t think I have the energy or determination to drybrush it all over again.

Hmm… I wonder what happened to Sarah and Steve?