Ahhh ...The Ice Cream Truck. Clearly an institution, I've some fond (and not-so-fond) memories from the "Good" and somewhat sadistic "Humor" guys in the little town on Long Island where I grew up. We had this one guy who looked like he was right out of a Hunter Thompson book, cigarette always had an inch-long ash hanging off the end of his Winston. He'd cruise along the neighborhood sans music but with these hinged sleigh-bells he'd pull to announce his arrival. The kids in the 'hood would try to hop on the back of his truck to get a free ride from him. Or maybe to get a rise out of him. Or both. Well, we succeeded. Stopping his truck he offered up a contest of a free ice cream, anything you wanted from his truck, to the contestant who could hold a piece of dry-ice the longest. Picture 13 year old boys, craving sugar and put into a competitive situation. Well, I remember holding on for about 20 seconds and dropping it quick. Around me, most others were doing the same. Not Robert Stevens. He was bigger, tougher and older than the rest of us. He had a job at the gas station and everything. Well he held on and on and on and on. He was the winner. But of what? A .75 cent ice cream pop? He had the half dollar sized freezer burn "blisters" covering the palm of his hand for weeks! Sadistic Humor man, indeed. Now as the modern day ice cream person drives around my Staten Island neighborhood, I can hear the casio-tone loop endlessly playing "turkey in the straw" and I wonder what it takes to go from ice cream truck to postal. ...sorry I digress.
