I love ice cream. If I could figure out a way to eat it every day, multiple times a day, I would. Me and Ben and Jerry have a thing. We’ve been on the outs lately though. I’ve got a beach vacation coming up next month, and I had to kick my boys to the curb. But that’s beside the point.
When I was a kid, my brother and I would spend the summers at my dad’s place. His neighborhood was right by the local elementary school and there were a lot of families there. The ice cream truck would drive through all the time. My dad’s house was at the beginning of the street so when we heard the jingle we’d inevitably find my dad or step-mom and beg for money so we could be ready when the truck would drive back through. It was hands down one of the coolest things ever. A truck that would bring you ice cream?! All you had to do was stand at the edge of the driveway and bam – sweet, sweet ice cream. Seemed totally legit.
Flash forward twenty-ish years.
When I pulled into my apartment complex this afternoon after coming home from the gym, the freaking ice cream truck was driving through the parking lot! The first thought that flashed through my head was “YES PLEASE!!!!!” Then of course the next thought was “Damn it. BEACH. BEACH. BEACH.” But then the third thought was “you know, that’s really kinda creepy.”
A guy driving around in a van luring kids with tasty treats. Isn’t that exactly what our parents told us to avoid? Maybe I’m just jaded but I’m pretty sure that if I had kids I wouldn’t let them get anything from a guy selling ice cream out the side of a van.
Baskin Robbins and their 31 flavors seems much safer, you know?