I remember being a kid and almost pissing myself when the ice cream man drove around the neighborhood, and I wasn't alone in my sentiments. If it happened once a week, we considered ourselves blessed. No, I think it is safe to say that he maybe came around once a month. Boy, when he did, the entire neighborhood would whip themselves into a frenzy. We'd stop whatever we were doing and race home to beg and plead with our parents to give us some money so we could go buy something...anything.
"HURRY, MOM. THE ICE CREAM MAN IS DRIVING AWAAYYYYYY!!!!"
Sometimes, we would get money. Sometimes, Mom would fish around in the freezer for some ice cream confection she bought at the grocery store. While reasonable adults would say it's the same damn thing, children would argue that it's not. It was totally and completely different.
For one thing, ice cream from home didn't have all those ice crystals on it the way the stuff from the ice cream man did. Which is funny because a lot of crap that has been sitting in my freezer for months has the same ice crystals on it. Go figure.
In my old age, I have come to view the ice cream truck with a certain degree of scrutiny. Not to mention that the song annoys the piss out of me as I can't seem to get it out of my head long after the truck has gone. He drives by everyday, and I have yet to see the flock of children come storming out of their houses like they had been shot out of a cannon.
I also secretly think that people who drive ice cream trucks are child molesters or something. See...told you I was getting old. Stay away from the Ice Cream Man, kiddies. He's got a secret stash of porn hidden under the orange dreamsicles.
Three Blind Mice...Three Blind Mice...