It was John Mayenburg’s birthday on April 5, so he treated himself to lunch at The Lockspot. Then he went to pay his respects at the place in the road where the young men had lost their lives one day earlier.

In front of the growing memorial of flowers and notes, John spent “a sacred moment.” He has always had a love of cars, as did those young men.

Mayenburg also knows about danger. He fished long-line for halibut out of Alaska for 20 years and survived a sinking in 1989.

He knows the make and model of virtually every car ever manufactured, but in his case, the cars are not on the streets. His 43,000 cars are die-cast miniatures and models, filling every inch of his storefront on 28th Avenue Northwest.

On the deck of an Alaskan ferry where’s he worked for the last 10 years, John wouldn’t look big. Inside his month-old "golden garden miniature cars and models shop," he looks like a giant.

In two years and another surgery, John plans to return to his job as able seaman on the Alaska Marine Highway. But right now, it’s time to let go of his miniatures and Hot Wheels in their original packaging.

Mayenburg is a collector. As a boy in Magnolia, he loved his miniature cars and Hot Wheels.

After graduation and a stint at Fishermen’s Terminal, he moved to Juneau, Alaska, for his fishing years.

Unfortunately he didn’t return to collect his car collection before his sister made good on a threat to get rid of it. Since that loss, he has spent his adult life overcompensating, becoming a train hobbyist as well as a die-cast collector.

Since an injury, Mayenburg has needed to be in Seattle every month for treatment, and he decided it was time to ship his collection by container from Alaska and take advantage of Seattle as a retail location for selling his collection.

He makes it a point to give free miniatures to kids every day and sell rarer models to other collectors.

Already, boys on their way home from school know they can pick out a free car from one of three walls, one per day, any time they visit.

From miniatures of cars that were featured in television or movies (from "The Flintstones" to "Herbie") and with an emphasis on models from the 50s, 60s and 70s, John has a model of almost every automobile (or Wienermobile) that was ever on the road.

Although Mayenburg participates in die-cast clubs and online forums, he has no interest in selling his collection on eBay.

What John loves is people. He doesn’t want to package and ship his cars through the mail. He wants to talk to neighbors who come in off the sidewalk. He wants to put cars literally into other hands.

He shows me models with windows that roll down, explains how die-casts are pre-painted metal, never plastic.

John looks like more of a railroad engineer than a small car collector until he holds the cars in his hand. Then they look at home, nestled in his big palm.

On a mostly residential street one block south of Northwest 85th Street, the exterior of the shop is inconspicuous, like the lower case letters in the business name.

Inside, the cars are stacked from floor to ceiling, interspersed with some airplane models.

“What I’m doing is tradition,” Mayenburg says. “It’s Alaska tradition to be giving things away.”

Although only open Thursday through Sunday, Mayenburg is already welcoming people from auto body shops, adults who miss their childhood collections, parents using miniatures as part of potty-training or Easter baskets and the kids who have heard about the free cars.

“I didn’t expect to be doing this,” Mayenburg said, looking around the little store. “I’m not out to make money. Just give away cars, sell some at cost and recover maybe half of what I’ve spent in the last 20 years.”

Mayenburg knows that kids, particularly little boys, will always love their miniature cars. Some will grow up to want to rebuild those classic cars, they will want to race them and show them off. But, it's safer if the steering wheels are no bigger than a button so that it is only small cars that go missing, not future lives.

As though on cue, two boys stopped outside to look at the window displays before entering.

“This is not work,” Mayenburg said. “This is enjoying.”

Mayenburg’s shop is located at 8346 28th Ave. N.W. He’s open noon to 7 p.m. Sunday through Thursday. The shop can be reached at 206.402.3607.