One of my favorite sounds is that of an ice cream truck driving through the neighborhood. ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ played at a ridiculously high pitch over and over again…the thought of it sends me right to heaven. With fall weather upon us, I am relishing any signs of summer we have left.
Last weekend, Sean and I were lounging around in the afternoon (still in our pjs of course) when I heard it. ‘Happy Birthday’ playing on repeat to no one. I immediately snapped out of my laziness, suddenly full of new-found energy, grabbed a few bucks, and dragged Sean outside. We arrived at the foot of our driveway just in time to see the truck pass us by towards the end of our dead-end street.
My first response was panic, until Sean calmly explained to me that typically children, and not adults, chase down ice cream trucks. The driver must have mistaken us for doing something adult-like (ex. checking our mail, taking out the garbage, etc). He promised me that he would stand in the middle of the street to flag down the truck on its return.
We sat down on the stoop to wait.
Our next-door neighbors had been up and about for hours. They were both out of their pajamas and were busy washing cars and tending their lawn. They giggled at us and went back to being adults (adults without ice cream).
Finally, the truck returned. As promised, my hero stood in the middle of street and flagged her down. As the truck pulled to a stop and the door rolled open, we both took a few steps back in surprise.
truck van was dirty and seemed to be loosely held together…the ice cream signs were taped on at crazy angles…the van was full of piles of trash, rumpled clothing, and assorted junk…an off smell was emanating from within…
My childhood memories of shiny ice cream trucks were dashed.
Although a small piece of my childhood was missing…my love of ice cream is not so easily lost.
I stepped right up and order a lemon ice.