Top Ten Toys Iowa Boys Played With In The 1960s

 

You won’t believe how much fun kids had with this stuff—and none of it plugged in or connected to the internet.

 

Iowa kids didn’t sit still long in the 1960s. If you weren’t outside, you were in the basement making your own action.

 

These toys got dirty. They got dropped, smashed, and dragged across gravel.

 

No rules. No instructions. Just imagination and whatever you had on hand.

 

These were the must-haves. The ones every kid either owned—or wished he did.

GI Joe. GI Joe hit like a thunderclap. One day you had toy soldiers. The next day you had a full-sized action figure that actually moved.

 

Those bendable arms and legs changed everything. You could make him crouch, crawl, dive—stuff other toys couldn’t do.

 

The gear was half the fun. Helmets, rifles, jeeps, tents. You didn’t stop at one piece. You wanted the complete setup.

 

Backyards turned into war zones. Snowbanks became forts. Once GI Joe showed up, imagination went into overdrive.

Tonka Trucks. Tonka trucks weren’t toys you looked at. You used them. Hard.

Gravel driveways, mud puddles, frozen dirt—they handled all of it without a complaint.

 

Dump trucks ruled. Load them up, haul them across the yard, dump them, and do it again.

 

They felt real. Heavy metal, tough wheels. If you had a Tonka, you had something that could take anything you threw at it.

Slot Car Racing Sets. Slot cars turned any basement into a speedway. Snap the track together and you were ready.

Pull the trigger and those cars flew. Fast enough to fly off the track if you weren’t careful.

 

That was part of the fun. Wipeouts, crashes, sending cars skidding across the floor. 

 

Don’t tell Mom, but we might’ve added a little lighter fluid and a match. Too bad we didn’t have a fire truck.

 

Friends came over and it got competitive fast. Fastest car, best driver. No excuses.

BB Guns. Every kid wanted a BB gun. When you finally got one, it felt like a big deal. Like you’d moved up a level.

Cans on fence posts became targets. Logs, boxes, anything that would fall over.

 

It came with rules and lectures. But once you were out there aiming, it felt like freedom. Until you shot out the neighbor’s picture window. (True story)

Hot Wheels. These mini cars showed up late in the 60s and changed the game overnight.

Bright colors. Sleek designs. Cars that actually moved fast.

 

Those orange tracks were magic. Set up ramps, loops, and long runs across the floor.

 

You didn’t stop at one car. You built a collection. And you knew which one was the fastest. Spoiler alert: lighter fluid and matches might have come into play again.

Lincoln Logs. Lincoln Logs kept you busy for hours. Stack them right and you had a cabin. Stack them wrong and it all came tumbling down.

So you figured it out. Tried again. Built bigger the next time.

 

There was something satisfying about it. No noise, no flash—just building something that worked.

Army Men. These little green soldiers didn’t have a name, but they were everywhere. Cheap enough to get an entire army. Just 99 cents for a big bagful.

Spread them out across the yard or the living room floor.

 

Battles went on for hours. You made up the story as you went.

 

They got stepped on, lost, melted, blown up—and somehow you always ended up with more. And as you’d expect, lighter fluid, matches, and magnifying glasses came into play.

Cap Guns. Cap guns were loud, and that was the whole point.

Load the caps, pull the trigger—POP. That sharp crack echoed everywhere.

 

Kids turned into cowboys fast. Draw, shoot, duck behind a tree.

 

The smell of those caps took a while to go away. Smoke and burned paper. It felt real enough.

Etch A Sketch. Two knobs and a blank screen. That’s all you got.

Turn one knob, and the line moves sideways. Turn the other, it goes up and down.

 

Sounds simple until you try to draw something that looks right.

 

Mess it up? Shake it clean and start over. Again and again. Trust me: it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Model Airplane Kits. Model airplane kits took patience. You had to build them piece by piece.

Tiny parts, glue everywhere, instructions you tried to follow.

 

Then came the painting. That’s where things got messy.

 

When it was done, you had something to show for it. A plane hanging from the ceiling, frozen in flight.

 

They were fun, but a styrofoam or balsa plane you could snap together in minutes was just as satisfying. And it could fly when you twisted the rubber band. How cool was that?

Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots. Two plastic robots. One goal—knock the other guy’s head off.

 

You mashed those buttons as fast as you could. Arms flying, heads snapping back.

 

It didn’t take long for things to get loud. Smack, clack, somebody yelling.

 

No strategy. Just speed and luck and a little bit of rage.

 

When that head popped up, it was over. And you were ready to go again.

 

Kids today have no idea what it was like. We couldn’t download the latest game and fire up the X-Box. We had to wait for Mom and Dad to take us to the toy store, which usually meant waiting for the weekend. 

 

Then, we had to beg and whine and promise to do chores.

One More Thing

If you’ve ever said “I remember that place”… this blog is for you.

I dig up the stories, the lost stores, the old Iowa you don’t see anymore. No clickbait. No junk. Just real nostalgia.

If you enjoy it, consider tossing a few bucks in the tip jar. It helps keep this thing going.

 Buy me a Big Gulp / Support Retro Iowa