Someone stole my son's Nissan Skyline

How could they do this to him, this was his pride and joy. It meant everything to him. What bastard would do such a thing. He was so devastated that even an offer of a McDonald's could not fix the hole that this heinous act had made. I am just glad it wasn't a real one!

It was a hot wheels version, but it was real to him. I hope I didn't deceive any of you in to thinking this was a story about a car jacking. Even if I did, you have invested interest now so you should still read on.

Both myself and my son are car fanatics, anything and everything to do with them. So naturally we are fans of the Fast and Furious franchise, the cars, the women, the action, the adventure, the speed, it is a wonderful world of cheesey goodness. This undoubtedly makes me a bad father as he is only 5, but that is a whole other topic.

Anyway when our local Asda received a selection of Fast 7 die cast models we were pestered beyond belief to purchase them. Every time we went in to the supermarket he would race up the toy aisle to check their status, shortly followed by an assault on our senses. A barrage of requests to the theme of, "Please Daddy can I have them? Please? Please? Please?"

Eventually we caved, but it was too late, Bryan's Nissan Skyline had sold out, only 5 out of the 6 car set were remaining. We bought them and told him that we would find the other one soon. Obviously this wasn't good enough, "When Daddy? When?"

"Soon wee man, Soon."

Oofft that lykan hypersport is so damn sexy!

That evening we were made to search all of the local supermarkets...nothing. This little bastard was illusive. We widened the search area, 10 miles, 15 miles. What the fuck, was this really worth it? My son assured us it was. This little car was either extremely rare or extremely popular.

20 miles, at first it looked like we had come up short again. But then some packaging caught my eye 15 feet up on the extra stock shelf. I climbed the shelves, still out of reach I made an all or nothing attempt to jump and get it. Jackpot! Thank fuck for that we could go home and put our feet up. My little boy was ecstatic, literally over the moon.

He played all night pretending to be Dominic Toretto, Bryan O'Conner and their crew. It was truly beautiful to behold, he was content. I don't know if you have ever watched a child play but it is so therapeutic. It is like watching flames dance in an open fire, or fish elegantly swimming in a fish tank. Sheer bliss.

He was so proud that he had to show his friends at school on Monday morning. Clutching the skyline with a death grip he went inside.

Upon picking him up I knew something was wrong, he emerged balling his eyes out. Oh shit what had happened? It turns out that he had left his most prize possession on a lunch table whilst he went to poo, a poo of all things, and a light fingered child relieved him of it. Never to be seen again.

I have never seen him so upset, he was distraught. Moral of the story, look after your shit.

He still brings it up now and again when playing with his cars, "Dad do you remember Bryan's car that I used to have...that was so cool." Perhaps one day I will buy another one on eBay and surprise him with it.

P.S. If you lovely people would like to contribute to making my son very happy again then you know what to do. Smash that upvote button.