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.