Is there a law against this type of business where only Ice Cream trucks are allowed? The reason i'm asking is because I remember visiting my parents home country and almost every day a guy came driving down our neighborhood ringing his bell, selling the most common fruits and vegetables, parking at the end of the neighborhood. (I think, it might also been once a week, I dont remember). What was really great was how convenient it was especially for my mother.
#-
On a side note there are also other benefits. I think this is also much more enviromentally friendly and healthy, in terms of simply buying what you actually need and it being readily available. This reminds me of food deserts around the U.S, how many of neighborhoods dont have access to healthy foods nearby. Just an example of how our enviroment can affect us. Another example is the city of SAN CRISTÓBAL DE LAS CASAS, Mexico, the capital of Coca Cola consumption, where people have access to it everywhere they go. (Even dedicated small neighbbhodd shops just selling Coca Cola)
I live in the middle of the woods. There has never been an ice cream truck even close to where I live. Today, my mom stepped outside and she told me that she heard something. I stepped out and heard it as well. It was “ice cream truck music” we were both creeped out. We had both had an eerie feeling all day today. Then to hear the music playing in the woods was just really creepy. There was no other music and no TVs on, etc.
Also, what music (if any) do they play?
In 1968 a company launched their ice cream truck that sold ice cream in "bulk", not the kind with a guy standing inside the truck selling different flavours in a cone but 12 ice creams in a carton that you immediately put in the freezer. They have had the same song since.
When we heard the tinkling of music and saw a pink blob in the distance, we were incredibly excited. The ice cream truck had come to town. And not just any ice cream truck—but Uncle Peter’s ice cream truck, who sells the sweetest, creamiest and most delicious ice cream in existence.
The moment the truck stopped, a snaking queue lined up outside the window. The pink-roofed shutter slid open and dozens of children giggled and squealed with delight as they bought their ice cream.
My best friend, Kyle, and I had always been slower than the other kids, including queuing up to get ice cream. As a result, we were last in line, but I managed to be in front. After Uncle Peter scooped up a blob of salted caramel ice cream and handed it to me, he looked apologetically at Kyle. His face wrinkled sorrowfully under his purple hat.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “But I’m all sold out for the day.”
Kyle’s face fell. Uncle Peter smiled kindly at him.
“But would you like to see how I make my ice cream instead?”
Kyle looked like Christmas had come a day early. “Yes please!” He screamed.
Uncle Peter opened the back of his truck and invited us inside. Cold air blasted our faces as we stepped inside the ice cream truck. Uncle Peter showed us the pantry where he kept his milk, sugar and vanilla, his vats where he churned his ice cream, and his big freezers where he stored his ice cream.
Then he turned towards Kyle and said, “You’ve been a good boy, a special boy. I’d like to give you something special. Come with me.”
He put his arm around Kyle’s shoulder like they were father and son, and disappeared into one of the freezers.
That was the last time I ever saw my childhood best friend.
***
Years passed. I met my wife, and had a son of my own. The magical trip to Uncle Peter’s ice cream truck was soon nothing but a distant memory.
Until I heard once again a familiar music jingle and saw a pink blob in the distance.
Children squealed in delight as they lined up to get their ice cream, my son and I amongst them.
The ice cream was unnaturally crimson, and tasted like copper.
I approached the ice cream truck and called out uncertainly, “Uncle Peter? This ice cream tastes funny.”
A man poked his head out of the window. It was my old friend, Kyle. He looked taller than when I last saw him, but had the same boyish grin on his face.
“He passed away some time ago,” he said before I could speak. “Taught me everything he knew, left me his truck and his ice cream.”
He nodded a
... keep reading on reddit ➡
I have had my mind blown this morning and learned this might be very regional apparently?
Growing up, everyone, my family, neighbors, kids at school, referred to it as the ding dong cart. I still hear people call it that to this day when it still drives around in the summertime.
Edit:
Apparently it's the official name for some of the trucks, but the terminology stuck around to refer to every ice cream truck as a ding dong cart
https://i.imgur.com/WgxogjY.jpg
Vintage: https://i.imgur.com/v77OOdV.jpg
All the kids in my neighborhood know the story about the ice cream truck. It's not a nice one. We do try to tell our parents about what the ice cream truck does to kids, but it's like talking to a brick wall. If you breathe a word of the story to them, they'll simply freeze in place, their eyes glazing over and unblinking, smiles stretching their faces. It isn't until you give up, feeling completely disheartened and alone, that your parents emerge from their trance, looking puzzled. They'll pat you on the head or shoulder and ask, "What were you saying, kiddo?" So you see, we can't tell our parents, or any other adults, about the ice cream truck. It won't let us.
I hope the same thing won't happen to you, if you're an adult and reading this. I'm sorry if it does, truly sorry. But I need to warn other kids.
Don't move here to Adaport.
The story goes like this: there's a kid named Roger. Ten years old, or maybe eight, or maybe as old as sixteen. Roger strolls along the street, on his way to school, or on his way back from it. He walks without a care in the world, swinging his backpack. He's whistling because it's a fine, beautiful, sunlight-strewn day. And then, right as he's nearly reached his destination, he hears it.
A strange but cheerful jingle! He starts to smile because he can't help it. That ice cream truck jingle is the kind of sound that makes kids laugh, puts a pep in their step, makes them think about the people or things they love. Roger thinks about his parents and the stack of superhero comics on his desk. And while he's thinking of all these delightful things, he slows down.
You don't want to do that when the ice cream truck is around.
The source of that jingle rounds the corner and barrels straight at him. Roger sees that it's an ice cream truck. It looks like something you'd see in hell, he thinks, and then scolds himself. Where did that stupid thought come from? No, that ice cream truck doesn't look scary at all. It looks fun! Bright shapes decorate every inch of it, and as it approaches Roger, he looks at it more closely and realizes that there are superheros all over the truck. Superman, Batman, Captain Marvel, the Flash! He is amazed. He's never seen an ice cream truck decorated like that before. Strike that, he's never seen any vehicle decorated like that. The ice cream truck has no name but he's sure the owner's a great guy, someone who loves comics too.
Roger walks over to the truck as it slows down next to him. He can't help
... keep reading on reddit ➡
We've been doing lots of work outside on Saturdays lately and the past 3 weeks we've been TAUNTED by the sound of a close-by ice cream truck .. but have never caught sight of this elusive creature.
Any tips or tricks to get him down our street? Today would be the perfect day to treat the kids (and me of course!) 😋
I've tried texting the numbers on both the Joey ice cream truck and the Mr SuperWhip, found on their websites, and both have replied "not us". ☹️
Kelmscott area
Trying to get the information from the website is so confusing. Need hlp.
