Building Better Models

Today I'm releasing the first installment in my series of highly professional, superbly researched, and impeccably true public service articles on how to build better scale models - or how to build your first one, should that be the case.

The first step in building a model is getting a model in the first place. The best method is to go to a local hobby shop. Since the Internet has killed the majority of local hobby shops, "local" means a drive of at least a hundred and sixty miles, so pack a lunch and a change of underwear. The hobby shop will be hard to find. One of my favorites lies between a tattoo parlor and a pawn shop; another one is next to an insurance agency that gets so little traffic you can actually see cobweb-encrusted mummies propped up at their desks.

Plan on spending approximately six hours at the hobby shop, because it's important to look at everything, even things that don't interest you at all. If you find a rack of beef jerky, examine the beef jerky carefully - there's no way of knowing what you might learn from it, and maybe someday someone will ask you to make a 1:1 scale model of a strip of peppery, bold beef jerky. It could happen. The general rule of thumb is that you should stay in the hobby shop until the person you brought with you (your spouse, or significant other, or just some random guy you're giving a ride) gets so bored he begins to scream.

It's best to buy a kit that doesn't interest you at all. If you wanted an airplane, you should buy The Visible Man instead. If you wanted The Visible Man, you should buy a tank. The main goal is to avoid producing any kind of enthusiasm or excitement, and nothing prevents enthusiasm quite like building something you don't like. Be sure to look at the 1/700th scale battleships, which are so full of small parts they can test the patience of Job, and the Airfix soft-plastic figures are good because they're almost completely impossible to work with.

We’ll assume that you really wanted to build a model of an airplane, which really means that you bought a model of a sports car instead. You earn style points if it’s imported and expensive. You’ll know you’ve got a good model kit on your hands when the guy who runs the store raises his eyebrows and says “Wow, I don’t sell many of those.”

No model can be built without "the stuff". You'll need glue, so make sure to buy six different sorts. Model builders often refer to glue as cement, so you'll want to buy several kinds of cement as well just to be on the safe side. The longer the health-and-safety warning on the side of the bottle, the better the glue is likely to work. Most models list somewhere on the outside of the box a list of paint colors you'll need to build the kit properly. These lists always refer to paints by item number, but the item numbers refer to a line of paint only available in Outer Mongolia and portions of Madagascar, and there's no way of knowing what color "A194" is. When in doubt, assume that every color is "Deck Tan". Once you've got enough Deck Tan to finish your model, you'll need tools. The general rule of thumb is that you need tools sharp enough to lop off your thumbs. You should plan on spending eight times more money on tools than on the model itself. The nature of the tools doesn't matter. Buy a pipe wrench if that's what interests you; what matters is how much money you spend, not what you get for the money.

Now take the model and the bags of "the stuff" home and have a gander. Peel off the plastic and savor the first heady inhalation of polymer-rich air that comes out of the box, redolent of carcinogens and industrial toxins. Now open all the plastic bags that hold the parts, and experiment with getting the now-empty bags to stick to the cat by static electricity. The cat, fatally attracted to boxes, will attempt to curl up inside the upside-down box top, but if you keep sticking the bags to him, he'll eventually get pissed off and go lay out a hairball on your shoes.

It's important to lose things. I especially recommend losing the instructions, the decals, or the clear parts. Bonus points are scored for losing all three. It's best if you lose the instructions in such a way that you find them 30 seconds after finishing the kit incorrectly, or if you find the decals just moments after decorating your jet airplane with scrapbook stickers. If you can't lose the instructions, the decals or the clear parts, try to convince some small but critical part to fly off the sprues and get lost behind the headboard and the wall. The part should be small enough to be impossible to find, but important enough that the model can only barely be finished without it, and even then only by using cramming a piece of wood into the void and covering it with whole rivers of super glue.

Soon it's time to start. First rub the runners on the cat to ensure that every part of the model sports at least 30 cat hairs. While handling the parts, be sure to eat plenty of microwave popcorn and fried zucchini strips, and be sure to rub the oil all over everything, thus producing a filmy paste of cat hair, grease, salt and butter substitute on everything. Now using a pair of scissors or a butter knife, cut all the parts off the runners - since you've already lost the instructions, the part numbers are irrelevant, aren't they?

So there you have it: a box of loose parts. All you have to do is stick them together in the right sequence. You can use the picture on the box top as a guide, or you can proceed on a more creative and intuitive approach, simply gluing things together at random until all the parts are used up. Critics will complain that your Corvette model should have four wheels or that the seats should be right-side up and facing forward, but ignore them. It's your model, after all! Be sure to use plenty of glue. If a little glue is good, a shitload of glue is great. If it begins to ooze, smear it around with your fingers and wipe the excess off on your shirt, on your lips, or on the outsides of your nostrils. After an hour or so of this, your brain will begin to malfunction as volatile chemicals in the glue clog the neurotransmitter receptor sites in your synaptic gaps. This is normal, expected and desirable, and the fanged blocks of cheese that you think are coming out of the wall and attacking you aren't really there.

At some point you'll end up confronting the small, missing, and critical part. Any small but critical part can be replaced with a length of bamboo skewer and nobody will ever know the difference. Simply break it off at about the right length and glue it in there. Use two or three chunks if it seems righteous.

Now it's time to paint the model. Open your can of Deck Tan paint, but don't stir it. We want the paint to go on in smooth, even layers, and only calm, well-adjusted paint will do that. Stirring the paint just agitates it and makes it ill-behaved. Grab your paint brush and paint everything Deck Tan. The paint probably won't cover well, so apply lots of it. Don't be afraid to pour the paint over the model if necessary, and while the paint is still sticky, eat crackers over it. Long, smooth strokes are better than short, choppy strokes. You may find it convenient to use a roller or a Wagner Power Painter, but be sure to securely attach the model to the ground with a tent peg before hitting it with the Wagner as the impact of the paint can send the model flying into the next yard.

As the paint dries, your common sense will present objections like "I don't remember tires being Deck Tan" or "I don't think the engine should be Deck Tan." Ignore these pointless snivels. If the Flying Spaghetti Monster didn't intend us to paint everything Deck Tan, He wouldn't have given us Deck Tan with his noodly appendage. Besides, it's now 10:34 PM and it's too late to drive back to the hobby shop and buy a can of Battleship Grey, and the only other paint you have in the house is that scanty quarter-of-an-inch of sage green in the bottom of the Behr can that's currently holding up the half-broken drain trap under the sink. Best to leave that sleeping dog lie.

It will take seventeen days for the thick layer of Deck Tan paint and cracker crumbs to dry. Leave the model in a dry, cool, well-ventilated spot where plenty of lint and cat hair can drift down onto it. Periodically test the paint's progress by attempting to press thumbprints into the roof, hood and door panels. When you can no longer impress deep, indelible thumbprints into the paint, it's safe to handle. Now is the time to detail paint the model. Since you've lost the instructions, you won't know what details need to be painted. And since the cats have long since clawed the model box top into tattered wreckage, you can’t rely on the box art. Instead of relying on the instructions or research materials, simply eye the model and ask "If I were this model, which of my various parts would want to be detail-painted?"

Detail parts should be painted either Burgundy or Deck Tan. The advantage of Burgundy is that it presents a vivid contrast to the Deck Tan main coat. The advantage of Deck Tan details is that no touch-up painting is ever required. Another advantage of Deck Tan details is that one can paint with a stick or a Q-tip without anyone knowing the difference.

In our next issue:

Decals: The Finishing Touch, or the Curse of Mephistopheles?