When I was little, on the farm, I didn’t know about them until visiting my grandma in the summer.
That was when I learned the amazing power of a thin little dime. It could make me sit quietly for hours (but probably ten minutes). It could get me to cry. It could get me ice cream!!
I heard the tinkle sounds of kid music getting closer, and I asked what it was. Grandma, after raising six kids, did not have the sense to keep her mouth shut. I had to ask her what ice cream truck meant. Oh, the power. With dime in hand, I could get that truck to stop right in front of me and give me ice cream!
When my son was a toddler, we lived in San Jose. He understood that sometimes the truck would go by without seeing us, and was happy for the times I did go to the sound. Ice cream cost a lot more, so we shared. I’d get Nestle crunch. My son didn’t like the crunchy chocolate part, so I ate the outside first, and shared the inside with him. Good times.
In Omaha, the guy went y too quickly for me. My daughter would run outside. I taught her to stay back from the street and wave her money at him, and not approach the truck until he was stopped. He was a pretty nice guy. When he quit, we’d hear trucks on other streets, but none came down ours.
I’m not sure if she even eats ice cream anymore.