Okay, so we've been living in our house for 24 years now. It seems like just yesterday. Weird. I can't believe how quickly the times goes.
Anywho, ever since we've been residing in our lovely little hamlet there has always been the quintessential ice cream truck, blaring a monotonous, mind-numbing tune manned by a crazy-Carney guy. Every summer I promise myself I'm going to get my big ass off the couch and treat myself to some of that traveling frozen yumminess. And every fall for the last 24 years, I have watched the leaves change and drop without having had the pleasure of a creamy treasure. Sure one Scooter Crunch costs almost as much as an entire box from the grocery store, but come one! It's the ice cream truck! It kinda tastes better.
Biting into the cold crunchy coating feels like Summer as a kid when you had nothing to worry about except making sure you were home before the street lights came on after a long day of lazing in the sun with friends you thought you'd never be able to live without.
Well today after I pulled in from girls' weekend at Lake Erie and Geo and I unloaded the car, the unmistakable tune of the ice cream man wafted through the warm, summer air.
Guess what. I did it. I got me a frozen treat from the big metal truck!
|Strawberry Cooter Crunch happiness|
Now if only he could outfit that puppy with a Cocktail Slushie machine...