Hiding in plain sight
We never had an ice cream truck growing up. It could be that there wasn't a high enough population concentration; could be that 8 months out of the year if we wanted something cold to eat we could just go outside and snap an icicle off the roof. Whatever the reason, the closest thing we had was the Schwan's man, who would deliver once a week (I think).
After living in Nashville for four years and not encountering an ice cream truck, I assumed they were a long forgotten past time, the kind of thing you'd see in a movie about the 60s and wish it was still around, like drive-ins and serial radio shows.
So imagine my delighted surprise when I quickly discovered upon moving in that there is an ice cream truck that runs through my neighborhood!
At first I thought it was going to be awesome, a fun little diversion from the day when I could look out the window and watch the neighborhood kids chase the truck down the street and return to their houses eating fudge-sicles and Drumsticks. I even contemplated going out myself from time to time to get a cool treat on a hot summer day.
And then the truck started just being annoying. It has been known to drive down Edith Ave hourly on some days, blaring Silent Night in the middle of July. Along with all your holiday favorites, the truck plays classical pieces that border on unrecognizable and simple nursery rhymes that on infinite repeat. I think getting stuck behind an ice cream truck may, additionally, be worse than being behind a bus because, with a bus, you can easily anticipate the stops and the bus driver knows these stops as well; an ice cream truck can and will stop at any time, drive 10-15 miles per hour below the speed limit, and will not let you pass.
And now, after 3 and a half months in the neighborhood, I've come to a conclusion: the ice cream truck driver is an undercover cop.
There is no way that person can stay in business with the complete lack of customers I've witnessed. They drive around all day, getting little business and wasting gallon upon gallon of gas, and yet they continue to operate. The only logical explanation is a government operation to catch the various madams, pimps, and dealers in north Nashville.
And if that's the case, I'll put up with a couple more bars of Old MacDonald blaring from that wretched speaker. But if not, someone needs to give that driver a dose of reality. Fast.
After living in Nashville for four years and not encountering an ice cream truck, I assumed they were a long forgotten past time, the kind of thing you'd see in a movie about the 60s and wish it was still around, like drive-ins and serial radio shows.
So imagine my delighted surprise when I quickly discovered upon moving in that there is an ice cream truck that runs through my neighborhood!
At first I thought it was going to be awesome, a fun little diversion from the day when I could look out the window and watch the neighborhood kids chase the truck down the street and return to their houses eating fudge-sicles and Drumsticks. I even contemplated going out myself from time to time to get a cool treat on a hot summer day.
And then the truck started just being annoying. It has been known to drive down Edith Ave hourly on some days, blaring Silent Night in the middle of July. Along with all your holiday favorites, the truck plays classical pieces that border on unrecognizable and simple nursery rhymes that on infinite repeat. I think getting stuck behind an ice cream truck may, additionally, be worse than being behind a bus because, with a bus, you can easily anticipate the stops and the bus driver knows these stops as well; an ice cream truck can and will stop at any time, drive 10-15 miles per hour below the speed limit, and will not let you pass.
And now, after 3 and a half months in the neighborhood, I've come to a conclusion: the ice cream truck driver is an undercover cop.
There is no way that person can stay in business with the complete lack of customers I've witnessed. They drive around all day, getting little business and wasting gallon upon gallon of gas, and yet they continue to operate. The only logical explanation is a government operation to catch the various madams, pimps, and dealers in north Nashville.
And if that's the case, I'll put up with a couple more bars of Old MacDonald blaring from that wretched speaker. But if not, someone needs to give that driver a dose of reality. Fast.
1 comment:
or it's a child predator. OR to catch a predator...Chris Hansen is in there...
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