Looking Back at the Incredible Crash Dummies — Part I

"The Future-Man shall ride in his high-speed chariot, unable to save himself from the minutest catastrophe or chaos at the wheel. He shall roll forth, crushing and crumpling children underfoot; wrecking property and lives; cracking his loins and eradicating his future offspring as a result. His metal-framed menace shall come equipped with safety devices that he shall not use, lest he look weak and womanish in front of his comrades. Literal dummies — abominations in human form made of synthetic material — shall be pressed into action to advise him, and only then shall the idiot endeavor towards his own well-being and that of his countrymen." 

After the Crash Test Dummies first appeared in a series of public service announcements jointly produced by the Ad Council and the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, it wasn't long before someone, someone perhaps a little unwell, concluded that Vince and Larry were popular enough, and marketable enough, to warrant further attention. 

An avalanche of merchandise followed — from plush dolls and bumper stickers to board games and T-shirts. 

Tyco began manufacturing "Incredible Crash Dummies" toys in 1991, minus Vince and Larry, who were scrapped — pun not intended, but tolerated — due to copyright issues. Over the next few years, the franchise grew, creaking and groaning, as a computer-animated cartoon pilot was produced, new vehicles and playsets were added to the toy line, the main dummies received backstories and villainous counterparts, and video games (terrible ones) hit the shelves for all major platforms.

Dash. Dent. Skid the Kid. Spare Tire. 

And "the Dummy Pets with 9 Lives," an inseparable cat-and-dog duo named Hubcat and Bumper. (Hubcat!) These were the crazy, bug-eyed, head-twisting, neck-springing, road-rashed and roadkilled stars of the Incredible Crash Dummies. 

Unlike practically every other toy on the market, the Dummies' claim to fame wasn't a Saturday morning cartoon show or big-budget blockbuster. No, the Dummies had to fight for shelf space on merit. While the Transformers rose to glory by being the action figure equivalent of an Erector Set — enterprising young devotees in a constructive frame of mind could click and clamp them into their vehicle counterparts — the Dummies were pretty much the opposite.

They weren't con-structive, they were de-structive, and if you can stomach that bit of pedantic analysis, then here's another: if you had a suppressed mean streak in you, if you got chills at hushed schoolyard accounts of those bizarre Faces of Death VHS tapes, if you loved the sight of crushed cars and roaring monster trucks and NASCAR crashes and news clips of gas plant explosions, the Dummies could grease your wheels and feed your monkey, all right.

The Incredible Crash Dummies rose to prominence in an overcrowded toy market because of one simple design feature, and one design feature alone: they broke apart. Literally. All you had to do was press the tiny button on their chests and your colorful plastic buddies would fall to pieces for you.

To this end, well over a dozen pint-sized vehicles came to market alongside the titular mannequins, and at least one torture apparatus: a strap-'em-down and press-their-guts-out contraption called the "Crash 'N Bash Chair." (It came in baby blue.)

The vehicles were varied and they were magnificent. There was the brutal Crash Flip-Over Truck. The Student Driver Crash Car. The ruthless Slam Cycle, with its detachable sidecar and spring action ejection seat. The Crash Go-Kart. The Crash 'N Dash Chopper. The Crash Cab, pop-off front wheels and destructible front fenders included. And, let's not forget, the Dummy Dirt Digger, the Bot Hauler, and the Junkbot Wrecker.  

And the Crash Lawn Mower.

The Crash Plane was perhaps the deadliest of all. Rubber straps inside its cockpit held an unsuspecting dummy captive (perhaps Chip, perhaps Flip, or perhaps Daryl, who came in a snazzy Pro-Tek suit and would "Pop his Top!" at the push of a button). A dependable internal mechanism would cause both wings to fall off when the plane's nose was pushed, so piloting it into enemy airspace for a bombing run meant the thing would literally start bursting at the seams. Throw it full force against the garage door, and airplane parts and tiny limbs would go flying in a sadistic show of carnage.

Of course, it'd all dutifully snap back together for another run afterwards.

In keeping with this general theme, the Crash 'n Dash Chopper later came complete with a side-seat that could be removed at will, meaning you could roll the bike across the carpet at full speed and then unleash the helpless passenger to roll to his fiery death. Or, at least, into some strategically-placed LEGOs.