The Pied Piper of cold, dairy-based sweets. The ice cream truck rides around residential neighborhoods and city parks at about 15 miles an hour, its haunting, Doppler-shifted Siren song audible to all children within a three mile radius. Attracting children out of the woodwork like a magnet attracts iron fillings, the truck and its proprietor (the legendary 'ice cream man') represent all that is holy and pure about good old-fashioned American summer. His only real competition for the hearts and souls of children is wrenched-open fire hydrants.

Dispensing overpriced Mickey Mouse ice cream bars and popsicles at a brisk pace, the ice cream man prays for drought and record heat. After all, 110 degrees means more business, and he's got one of the coolest spots in town.