The word in the description refers to the brand, a very well known UK manufacturer of die cast toy vehicles. The number and letter are the regular listing for the item in the promotional catalogue for Matchbox.
In the 1960's and early 1970's ,which were my childhood years, I would save up my pocket money in order to buy the latest of these small brochures from the local model shop. Browsing dreamily through that printed colour book with photos and illustrations of the range of toy cars was to me as important as having the vehicles themselves.
It was in those pages that I first came across 49b. The name of 49b, "Unimog" also seemed to be an invented word along the lines of Unisex or Uniform as meaning of a singular but multi purpose use and with mog, well, that could be anything.
I thought at first that it the model was a made up one, a design thought up by the Matchbox people as it was not something that I had seen on the road in reality ,on television or in the relentless scouring of my Father's car magazines which was part of my boyhood fascination with all things automotive.
Fascination? It was more of an obsession that did get me into trouble such as the time, on a visit to the Scrapyard when my father was looking for some parts for his Morris Minor, I prized shiny stainless steel marque badges off a few easily accessible bonnets and tailgates and hid them in his toolbag. The owners of the yard were not very pleased when this came to light and they charged him for them.
On closer inspection of the catalogue picture of 49b there appeared to be the distinctive three pointed star that I knew to be for Mercedes Benz.
I was excited and intrigued by this revelation- The Unimog was a chunky, big wheeled, utility type vehicle from a manufacturer known for big limousines used by villains and Russian spies and sports cars of secret agents and playboys.
There was only one thing I could do. I had to go to the local toy shop and buy a Mercedes Benz Unimog.
First practicality to overcome was to save up my pocket money. The rationale for that in my family was one new pence for every year of age per week.
It would take some time to save up. Time dragged as it does in a young brain when there is an overwhelming feeling of anticipation and yet nothing can be done to expedite matters. This frustration is to some extent balanced out by a deep sensation of achievement in saving up for something that is really wanted .
At last the saturday came around for a trip into town.
The model shop was one of those that used to be in every High Street with a brightly lit window stacked and packed with dangling model planes and exotic cars, a train hauling a long line of wagons and carriages through a toy town diorama and the striking artwork on the lids of boxed Airfix kits.
Hours could be spent just standing and staring at this scene of so much activity.
I could feel the pocket money change burning a hole in my duffle coat pocket and within a few minutes of mock decision making in front of the Matchbox Display Stand I had a Unimog in my hands.
With the luxury of hindsight I might not have immediately ripped open and trashed the packaging as I always did but collectability and residual values were not of any interest whatsoever to me at that age.
The Unimog, for many years, provided me with hours of quality imaginative interaction.
As the websites advertising these vintage toys now so tactfully put- mine did become a bit "playworn".
I came across the battered and faded vehicle just recently when the children of a family friend found the old box of cars that live in the attic at my parents house.
The sight and feel of it instantly bought back memories. I was pleased that the spark of excitement and childhood joy flickered briefly in the world weary and rather tired and cynical mind that comes with me being 54 years old......next birthday.
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