Back in the 80’s (cue retro-futuristic timewarp sound), there was a sitcom called Cheers that always played at night, past our mandated bedtimes. It was about a group of regulars who would frequent an old bar in Boston and their antics, that would be considered a relatively boring plot by today’s standards. It was full of stories of failed greatness, struggles of ego and vanity, but also wholesome stories of the camaraderie and love formed by this wacky group of huggable yet often slap-worthy functioning alcoholics. (This would also be the show where pop culture icon Woody Harrelson would cut his teeth, playing a young bartender, before becoming a Natural Born Killer and zombie-exterminating menace that he is known for today.)

At first, I hated it. As a pre-teen, it was just so old-timey, from the wood-everywhere decor to the piss-beer served in glass mugs (a la Tapper), and a 70’s sing-along piano song that used to drive me mad when it came on, and most of the main characters were old people. Old people, good lord! Most of the main characters were probably supposed to be in their 30s and early 40s at most, but as a kid, we’d called anyone after college “old”. Oh, I cringe at my naivety. (Little did I know that this show would set me up later in adulthood for my love of bars of all kinds, their oddball patrons and boozy delights.)

Today, 40+ years later, Cheers remains one of my favorite shows ever, up there with the GOAT, Transformers, and I can always default to it as one of my go-to shows when I can’t make up my mind on what to watch. Perhaps this is just my nostalgic-induced justifying here, but I still contend today that it’s ostensibly a very well-written set of episodic stories about realistic, believable characters with believable behavior, decent character arcs and continuity. But compared to 80’s cartoons, TV shows with real-life actors portraying characters usually were fairly consistent in terms of writing quality, since they weren’t created solely to shill toys and merchandise geared towards adolescent boys. Nostalgia brings me a sense of peace from all sources now. I find almost anything from 20 years ago and prior makes me nostalgic – not necessarily yearning to go back, but a feeling of familiarity and comfort. These little plastic and die-cast playthings serve as mementos of a simpler time, back when things seemed so much less… serious. (Keep collecting toys, boys and girls.)

So why the hell am I going on and on about a live-action 80’s show, when we’re obviously here for the best show ever – a cartoon about robots, also from the 80’s? Because it’s full of familiar archetypes, many of which are echoed in the personas and DNA, warts and all, of Transformers characters, let alone most 80’s cartoons and even modern storylines today. Regular-ass, tax-paying Americans, with boring-ass jobs and plebeian, but relatable lives. The cast represents the working class in their milieu, from upper middle to lower middle, sometimes crossing the chasm momentarily, yet always conforming to the local tropes.

From left to right: Norm – a tubby accountant drowning his marital troubles in beer. Coach – a geriatric former baseball coach turned barkeep with mild dementia. Frasier – a lonesome, divorced psychologist pining for another shot at Diane (far right) – a narcissistic, pseudo-intellectual actress-wannabe who is always fueling her ego with romantic flings including one with her boss, Sam, the owner of the bar. Carla – the crabby jaded waitress with a mean mouth (and also Danny Devito’s wife). Sam (middle) – a womanizing, overconfident yet insecure, down-and-out ex-baseball pro (and as the bar owner, the de facto leader of the pack). Woody – a red-blooded, country bumpkin bartender trying to make it in the big city with nothing upstairs but a big grin. … and the subject of my dissertation – the middle-aged virgin, a know-it-all mailman. Cliff Clavin.

Played by John Ratzenberger, who later became the voice actor for the beloved oinker, Hamm, in Toy Story, Cliff was the quintessential braggart yet majorly insecure everydayman, full of unrealized dreams and nothing but big talk. Ratzenberger apparently created the Cliff Clavin character himself during casting, and would later paint his profile in an interview (via Wikipedia):

Cliff is the kind of guy who wishes he’d been a combat Marine, but maybe he was nearsighted or had flat feet and became a mailman. He loves the respect he gets. […] As for women, Cliff is like the construction workers who whistle at women but turn to a quivering mass when they’re face-to-face with a woman. The greatest fear of men is that they won’t live up to their expectations.^[7]

— John Ratzenberger, Associated Press, June 1985

Hoist is the Cliff Clavin of Transformers. Not in the sense that Hoist is like a mailman, or a wimpy dork like Clavin’s character (coincidentally or not Clavin sure sounds like “craven”). I mean in the way that Hoist is just a fairly non-heroic, non-descript character that is just kind of there. He doesn’t add, nor subtract anything to the team. Just a minor supporting role. Sure, he’s got a starring role in a few episodes and he’s gainfully employed as an Autobot doctor / maintenance engineer / construction worker, alongside his good buddy Grapple (so does that make Grapple Norm?), a fellow blue-collar worker. Cliff has that kind of obnoxious but generally harmless personality that wreaks of “beta male syndrome”, exemplified by his unathletic body and annoying speech pattern. Similarly, Hoist has a husky frame and a hoity-toity nasal British accent no less. As part of a warring military faction, Hoist is just kind of a background fixture of a character and his imprint on the main TF storyline was fairly unremarkable.

The same goes for the G1 toy. Hoist was never top of my wishlist, and I remember the release being a bit of a shelf-warmer in comparison to the other ’85 releases. I think a lot of that is due to the fact that the alt modes for a lot of the other Autobots and Decepticons were highly coveted, droolworthy automobiles, planes, and other fantastical space vehicles, whereas Hoist was just a green tow truck. Or so I thought, as a dumb kid.

Now, 40+ years later as a dumb adult toy collector, I feel much different about G1 Hoist. Hoist is a superb figure. I’ve grown to love Hoist’s blockiness – half of the figure is literally a block of truck for a torso. All the accessories give you so many options for play and posing in both modes, plus the truck mode can tow other G1 cars, which adds a ton of play value. Trucks are super fun. And the alt mode is not only a tow truck, but a great truck at that – a Toyota Hi-Lux Wrecker Type. Only wish Hasbro had kept the “Wrecker” text on the side of the truck, which they’ve recently done in the Legacy tribute for the red Diaclone variant, Lift Ticket. (I may just have to pickup the MP version. Crap.)

If you’ve ever been to Asia before, these Hi-Lux trucks are everywhere, along with Disco’s and other cool autos that we will never get in the US market. As an adult male and 4Runner driver, I can really appreciate the utility and horsepower of a Toyota truck. They haul ass and last forever, if maintained properly. All bots, even maintenance bots, need maintenance every now and then. (Self-care anyone?) In any case, before waxing on / off any more, just look at the cool stuff this little toy car robot can do.

By now most TF collectors, if not all, know about Diaclone, pre-TF Takara toylines, and the mess of licensing and international copyright confusion that formed the wellspring of the early G1 catalog. This is an official Hasbro release so it didn’t include the driver, of course, but with so many accessories for both truck and bot modes, it’s such a great value in one package; it’s almost like a playset!

Like our good bud Cliffy, Hoisty is also always there at your side, keeping the team’s engines running and roads clear. A reliable maintenance worker is quite like a federal postal carrier in his dedication to service, come rain or shine, nuts or bolts. And while going about his work he probably gets the job done with a big goofy grin (probably) hidden behind that plain but vented battle mask. I must say, I do love my robots with futuristic ninja masks. Note the peculiar angles, shapes, and details they put onto this funny melonhead:

He’s just dripping with late 70’s early 80’s flair, quite the dazzler up close in all his regalia. Look at those super detailed sculpted wings, the behind the head scanning ray that could double as a laser blaster or some super-bright headlamps like used with trucks, the ribbed lines and all of it nestled within a plain green tow truck shell. This isn’t very Hasbro Transformers design, it’s still got so much Takara Diaclone pizazz left in it that ended within a few years of G1’s launch. Hoist is a musem piece. Kind of like Cliff Clavin. Not very special, but unique in their own way.

My Hoist is well-played with, well-loved by not me, but by someone else most likely around my age. I acquired this back in the early 2000’s before vintage G1 got really expensive. So I think I picked him up for $30 or so because of the missing parts, minor scuffs, missing stickers, worn chrome, and other aspects which back then, you could easily pick up a nice minty C8 loose Hoist for $50 or so. In other words, he was cheap for then and supply was in super abundance at this guy’s C5-ish state. Since then, with anything in limited supply, I think most G1 cars in C5 and up are getting harder and harder to find, and naturally so as G1 is the origin of the entire TF universe and should rightly so remain in the highest demand.

Maybe I’m just justifying my hoarding of vintage toys as appreciating assets or totally ignoring the financial black hole of hobby collecting, but these things are museum pieces, and Hoist is one nonetheless. And even with my level of OCD perfectionism when it comes to pristine condition and the likes, I have also grown to love the wear and tear on this over 40-yr old vintage toy, as it is so befitting of its role as a tow truck, all bruised and banged up from heavy duty work – the patina developed over years of play and some lack of care all add to his “character”. Something I definitely didn’t appreciate until I had recollected nice minty ones from my original childhood TF collection.

Hoist may never reach “favorites” status for me, but this’ll be the last time (probably not) I overlook a meek and mild-mannered, mostly mundane, “helper” figure. They may not steal the shelf with their sleek designs or captivate audiences with any onscreen bravado, but they’ve just got so much charm that only appreciates over time.

And when helping his buds out, like fixing a flat for Bluestreak – that’s when Hoist really shines.

Besides, who doesn’t need a little Cliff Clavin in their lives these days, no?