The Ice Cream Truck

This sad, funny and bizzare scene just recently unfolded before me:

I was enjoying an afternoon rest, looking through pictures with my almost 2 year old daughter, when we heard the enchanting jingling refrain of an Ice Cream Truck. My heart leapt with joy! It was on my street and approaching! I would finally have an opportunity to buy my favorite treat from an iconic purveyor.

I remember reading about ice cream trucks in stories, when I was a kid. The picture of the jolly ice cream man, with a friendly smile, doling out that delicious delicacy into toasty brown cones. We lived WAY out in the country for a large portion of my childhood and the closest thing to an ice cream truck was the Schwann's Man, who did visit, admittedly, remarkably often and DID, indeed, deliver ice cream. But that's not quite the same. For one thing, he usually came in the evening, after dinner and right before bedtime, when ice cream was out of the question. And secondly, he came to the door- I could only peer around whatever parent answered the door to steal a glimpse of the great big beige movable freezer throught the twilight gloom.

When we moved to a duplex in town, for a brief 18 month period, I heard the truck several times, but it never seemed to make it to the end of the street, where we lived, or else I was indoors. Even if I'd had a true opportunity, I don't know if my parents would've doled out any change for the occasion, as our freezer was perpetually stocked with the delicacies from the Schwann's Man, and on any hot summer day I could have a perfectly good Drumstick cone or PushUp for the asking.

Since moving to town, there have been, perhaps a couple of times a year I've heard the magical tune, and even if it is impossibly far away, I have been immediately seized by the desire to run after it and catch it, probably forgetting money in my rush.

So today, my golden moment was finally within grasp. My purse was hanging right by the door. My door open, I looked through the screen to watch with amazement as the ice cream truck paused at the intersection and then gliding through, slowed and pulled up the the curb almost directly in front of my house. Serendepity at its finest! But, what was that?! A police car? Lights flashing, it pulled up directly behind the shiny orange ice cream truck with the Blue Bunny leaping over the front right quarter panel. My happy bubble began to deflate. What could the ice cream truck have done wrong? I watched aghast and suddenly amused as the deputy stepped up the drivers side window. His words floated to me across the sunny breeze: "...we do not allow vehicles that allure children..." He continued to gesture vaguely and his walkie talkie buzzed and beeped menacingly. The driver and his counter-part, hairy and vaguely unkempt and hippie looking just nodded and slumped a little. I called David, as I had to gush to SOMEone about this vision. Within five minutes they were gone.

Yosi looked at me questioningly. What were we to do now? Well, I'd made some pistachio pudding last night, to help assuage an ice cream craving I had that I'd not had the energy to fulfill by walking down to Maid Rite. And some Cool Whip. So, we filled a bowl and dug in. It was bittersweet, but mostly sweet. Yosi liked it. When I asked, "Is that good or what?", she replied "Good and what!"

Ah well Ice Cream Truck, maybe another day...