Follow That Truck!

I think I’ve glimpsed my future, and it looks something like this.  Forget all the years of work and study to earn a master’s degree in education, forget all those poor kids who need to learn English, forget trying to improve the world one kid at a time…I’m going to drive an ice cream truck.  Yesterday at the pool, we heard the happy, beachy tunes approaching long before we even saw it.  It was as if on cue, all the kids’ heads perk up, the screaming and squealing in the water almost stops (as if just to be sure they really hear what they think they hear), and then all eyes dart to the adult they came with in almost a panic of, “I hope Mom brought money and lets me use it for ice cream” then the minute the truck pulls into the pool parking lot, the kids empty the pool, grab their money, and literally go running in a pack to get the ice cream. 

The only kid left in the pool (I’m not kidding) was Nina.  She’s still in the pool because she probably knows there’s no chance her mom brings money to the pool like all the other moms (she’s right), and Lyla looks over at me and said, “Nina looks so lonely.  She’s the only one in the water.”

This leads me to think, there is an undeniable mystique about the ice cream truck. It’s the pied piper on wheels.  The selection may be so-so, and everything is over priced, but kids will run the distance just to catch the ice cream truck.  I remember as a kid, Shen and I running down the street in front of my great-grandmother’s house in Southern Maryland, barefoot, stubbing our toes as we ran, frantically trying to catch the ice cream truck just to get a little Strawberry Shortcake ice cream bar or occasionally a Choco Taco.

So, back to the scene at the pool.  The lifeguard calls break, and we’re getting ready to go home anyway, so we get out of the water and dried off to head home.  All the kids are coming back into the pool with their ice cream, and Nina and Lyla ask if they can have some.  I tell them that I didn’t bring any money with me, but feel the tiniest twinge of guilt because I know there’s just “something” about the ice cream truck that makes it special and fun.  So, as we’re walking out to the car, the truck is still there with it’s happy music playing, and Nina asks if we can drive home and get her allowance money then come back to the truck for ice cream, and I say yes.  We live a minute from the pool, so there’s a good chance it will still be there when we come back.

I get to the house, go in and get their money, then get back in the car, and Lyla shouts, “Follow That Truck!”  We put all the windows down in the car, listening for the music.  I figured we’d have some fun trying to track it down by listening for the happy music, and Nina remembers the direction she saw it take as it pulled out of the pool parking lot, so I follow her directions and play along.  I know the truck is probably long gone, but it’s not actually the ice cream that matters so much as the pursuit of the ice cream.  We never find it, but we do stumble upon a little lemonade stand and get out of the car (still in our bathing suits) and buy some lemonade from two little girls.  As with the ice cream truck, the lemonade isn’t what really gets anyone excited, it’s the fun of seeing the stand, standing out on the sidewalk and drinking warm lemonade, talking with other little girls, paying $.50 a cup, and getting back in the car to head home.  We never found the ice cream truck, but we tried. 

But don’t feel too bad for Nina and Lyla, they got to partake in some whoppie pies instead.  I made them for when my dad came over for dinner on Tuesday, and I happen to think they’re much better than ice cream anyway.