Sunday afternoon I was reading on the couch and started hearing strange music. For a dessert fiend like myself the sound was immediately identifiable as an ice cream truck. I peered through the blinds and sure enough, an ice cream truck was making it’s way down our street. Seriously, was I dreaming this? I live on a street where there’s an ice cream man? HEAVEN!
Unfortunately, in the midst of my excitement I missed it altogether, but vowed that I would do better given another opportunity. As luck would have it, i didn’t have to wait very long.
Yesterday before dinner I heard the magical chimes once again. This time Jim heard them too, and before I could even grab my wallet he had flown out the door and across the street. It was like the Pied Piper was in town; children were mindlessly flocking to him as though they’d been brainwashed. Jim stood in line behind several children a quarter of his age (yes, he let them go first) and returned home with a Strawberry Shortcake bar and a Drumstick.
It baffles me while making me completely happy, that ice cream trucks still exist today. And that they still have the same treats they sold when I was six. And that I still react to them like they’re giving away free cars.
I sincerely hope that when I have children these are still a thriving enterprise.