What American kid doesn't have fond memories of hearing the crackling music of the ice cream truck coming down the street, running through their house trying to conjure up 3 quarters before the truck passes and you were left running down the street without shoes trying to catch up to the truck. When you finally made it stop, (feet burning and turning black) you got to take your time in looking over the side of the truck were all of the mouthwatering pictures of the 20 different types of cold deliciousness that you could potentially buy with your $.75 hung. Always going through all of your options then deciding on the one that you new would make you the happiest. For me it was the red, white and blue rocket pop. Such great memories.
A couple of days ago I hear the ice cram truck coming down our street so I yell to Dave that we should get the kids an ice cream. So he runs out to stop the truck. I come running out 2 seconds later, (no shoes) to be apart of the first time our kids get to experience the joy of the ice cream truck. The kids took no time in picking what they wanted (neither of them picked a rocket pop), Dave and I decided what we wanted, and then the ice cream man delivers the blow, $9 please. Dave thought he misunderstood and asked how much? It was the same price the second time. As Dave handed over the money I felt a sadness for the fact that my kids will have to give up all their kidneys to enjoy what every American kid should enjoy...$.75 ice cream from the truck that plays the crackly music. Now when the kids ask if they can get another ice, we just say we will take them to Baskin Robins.
