G.I. Joe Warrant Officer: Flint
The warrant officer is complete with his Riot Shotgun I-12 Short Barrel and backpack.
Flint is a funny story, if you’ll indulge me.
In 1985, my little brother got Flint. It was his time to shine. In 1978 I had gotten all of the Cantina guys, in 1983 he got Jabba’s crew. I had Duke, so my parents must have felt that it was time for my brother to get the new guy in charge. Flint’s character in the comic, the file card, the toy, and in the cartoon were all awesome. More and more I would grab Flint to lead my infiltration team if my brother was not around. By the time I decided that I really wanted Flint he was out of circulation.
One day, maybe in 87 or 88 or so, I was walking home from school with some friends. We stopped into the local general store which was about half way home on our little main street. The store had model kits and candy. I probably wanted both. And there he was. Hanging on a steel wire display up by the register desk was a fresh case of '85 figures. On the very top right was a single carded Flint! The old man must have gotten some old overstock from the distributor at a cheap price. I stared for a few seconds and it hit me, I can get Flint! I knew that I had a few bucks at home and ran the remaining 4 blocks, hastily grabbed my money and ran just as fast back up. That is the Flint in the photo above.
Fast forward about 30 years. I had a day off from work and was with my step daughter down at our little local beach club. I saw an old class mate of mine who had moved away years ago. He was nursing a divorce and moved back into his parent’s house in the old neighborhood. It was his weekend with the kids and he had taken them to the beach club that all of us played at every weekend when we were young. As we stood there in the sand under the cool shade of a cluster of Sycamores we sipped out beers, watching our kids play in the shoreline. We started chatting about the old days. I told him that same Flint story. Out of no where he blasted me in my left arm. Gary is an inch or two shorter than me but easily 40 very solid pounds heavier, and as a state trooper (New Jersey I think, maybe New York) he knows how to use that weight. He yelled, You Bastard! Gary had run home that very same day 30 years ago. He ran home to get money to buy Flint too. He lived less than a block away from that old general store. But I beat him to it. He settled for Lady Jaye.
G.I. Joe Warrant Officer: Flint
The warrant officer is complete with his Riot Shotgun I-12 Short Barrel and backpack.
Flint is a funny story, if you’ll indulge me.
In 1985, my little brother got Flint. It was his time to shine. In 1978 I had gotten all of the Cantina guys, in 1983 he got Jabba’s crew. I had Duke, so my parents must have felt that it was time for my brother to get the new guy in charge. Flint’s character in the comic, the file card, the toy, and in the cartoon were all awesome. More and more I would grab Flint to lead my infiltration team if my brother was not around. By the time I decided that I really wanted Flint he was out of circulation.
One day, maybe in 87 or 88 or so, I was walking home from school with some friends. We stopped into the local general store which was about half way home on our little main street. The store had model kits and candy. I probably wanted both. And there he was. Hanging on a steel wire display up by the register desk was a fresh case of '85 figures. On the very top right was a single carded Flint! The old man must have gotten some old overstock from the distributor at a cheap price. I stared for a few seconds and it hit me, I can get Flint! I knew that I had a few bucks at home and ran the remaining 4 blocks, hastily grabbed my money and ran just as fast back up. That is the Flint in the photo above.
Fast forward about 30 years. I had a day off from work and was with my step daughter down at our little local beach club. I saw an old class mate of mine who had moved away years ago. He was nursing a divorce and moved back into his parent’s house in the old neighborhood. It was his weekend with the kids and he had taken them to the beach club that all of us played at every weekend when we were young. As we stood there in the sand under the cool shade of a cluster of Sycamores we sipped out beers, watching our kids play in the shoreline. We started chatting about the old days. I told him that same Flint story. Out of no where he blasted me in my left arm. Gary is an inch or two shorter than me but easily 40 very solid pounds heavier, and as a state trooper (New Jersey I think, maybe New York) he knows how to use that weight. He yelled, You Bastard! Gary had run home that very same day 30 years ago. He ran home to get money to buy Flint too. He lived less than a block away from that old general store. But I beat him to it. He settled for Lady Jaye.