Ice Cream Trucks

[bloviatrix]

The depot for all the metro area NYC Good Humor trucks was in Queens Village off of Springfield Blvd.

They would supply the truck, gas, white pants, and sell you the frozen goods. New "employees" would come to work with a white shirt and a soon to be dashed hope of making a living.

Your first unpaid day on the job was going out with a "lifer" whose route was the Prospect Park area of Brooklyn to learn the ropes. The "lifer" sat in the driver's seat of the upscale step-van complete with service windows and watched you like a hawk to make sure you weren't skimming while you busted your butt selling. After an exhausting day of selling tons of ice cream in Brooklyn they'd let you loose on your own route in Elmont. I think I did it for a week before forgetting to show-up.

The coin-changer thing on the belt was way-cool though. The 45mph govenor on the truck's motor wasn't.

PJ

This is completely off-topic, but I grew up in Elmont. And it's not in NYC, it's Nassau County.

[Human Bean]

Ice Cream Truck memory: I grew up in the NY/NJ area, and the Good Humor trucks made regular rounds. My favorite was the strawberry/vanilla pop with the pink and tan cake crumbs on the outside. They still make it (though here it's sold in vending machines and supermarket freezer cases) and I'll occasionally have one and think of long ago.

And today, there still seem to be ice cream trucks around, though I usually just hear rather than see them. They seem to go by too fast to catch them. Back in the day, you'd be outside playing with friends, you'd hear the approaching ice cream truck jingle, dash home to locate a parental unit, beg for and obtain money, then back to the street to get the goods. Now, they seem to go by too fast for that process to work. Do pre-teens routinely carry cash now?

[SobaAddict70]

The Mr. Softee trucks are ok....unless you hear that annoying jingle TWENTY TIMES in an hour.

(I'm not making this up. I used to live in Jackson Heights, and I swear to god, I heard that jingle ten to twenty times an hour on average. I used to think there was a hidden conspiracy of three or four trucks outside my apartment building. In truth there was only one, but it had a very limited radius.)

Anyway, now that I live in Manhattan, I see them quite infrequently at best...which is just as well.

Soba

[pjs]

The depot for all the metro area NYC Good Humor trucks was in Queens Village off of Springfield Blvd.

They would supply the truck, gas, white pants, and sell you the frozen goods. New "employees" would come to work with a white shirt and a soon to be dashed hope of making a living.

Your first unpaid day on the job was going out with a "lifer" whose route was the Prospect Park area of Brooklyn to learn the ropes. The "lifer" sat in the driver's seat of the upscale step-van complete with service windows and watched you like a hawk to make sure you weren't skimming while you busted your butt selling. After an exhausting day of selling tons of ice cream in Brooklyn they'd let you loose on your own route in Elmont. I think I did it for a week before forgetting to show-up.

The coin-changer thing on the belt was way-cool though. The 45mph govenor on the truck's motor wasn't.

PJ

This is completely off-topic, but I grew up in Elmont. And it's not in NYC, it's Nassau County.

But that's where they sent me. If only the Belmont Racetrack was open at the time.

I'd be independently wealthy.

PJ

[Elissa]

Anyone remember the scene in John Carpenter's Assault on Precinct 13 (shot through an ice cream cone!) when a motley gang takes out a little girl ordering from an ice cream truck while her father, on a nearby pay phone, watches helplessly? Somehow quite a guffaw.

[emsny]

In junior high school, back in the 1960s, lunch was often supplemented by ice cream from the Bungalow Bar truck that was conveniently parked outside the school. When I graduated, I asked the ice cream man to sign my autograph book, which he kindly did. In a cramped, childish scrawl, he managed to fill the page with the words "Mike the Bungalo". This was one of the early signs of the fallibility of grown-ups.

[bumbershoot]

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.

[fresco]

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.

The Bad Humor Man. Love it. Surprised it never became a Seinfeld episode.

[maryannefood]

I grew up in urban central America, Newark NJ. There were ice cream trucks, varieties of them, that visited our neigbothood every day of the summer - the Good Humor man, Mr. Softee, these come to mind right away. What a good food mood memory this is! Here in Hoboken Mr. Softee annouces the summer with that "tad da da da da" recorded music in June, and come to think of it he hasn't been around much since then this year. Well, neither have I. I miss that sound. Great memory jog - thanks!

[lamb]

In junior high school, back in the 1960s, lunch was often supplemented by ice cream from the Bungalow Bar truck that was conveniently parked outside the school. When I graduated, I asked the ice cream man to sign my autograph book, which he kindly did. In a cramped, childish scrawl, he managed to fill the page with the words "Mike the Bungalo". This was one of the early signs of the fallibility of grown-ups.

From my grade school days:

"Bungalow Bar

Tastes Like Tar

The More You Eat it

The Sicker You Are!"

Bill, our Bunaglow Bar Man, would just smile when we sang our song. He would gladly split double ice bars for us on the edge of the garbage bin located on the outside of his truck. 5 cents would get you 1/2 the bar, trouble was deciding on a flavor that you and your friend would share.

I miss Bill.

[NeroW]

We have a couple of trucks that come by once in awhile, one even plays a techno version of Turkey in The Straw .

Yargh, I hate that one!

We get one in my neighborhood that plays "Do Your Ears Hang Low" and then this horrible lady's voice blares out: "Hello? He-ll-oooo?"

It sits on the corner right outside my window for 10, 15 minutes at a time.

I feel like waving a white flag at it.

[alacarte]

We have a couple of trucks that come by once in awhile, one even plays a techno version of Turkey in The Straw .

Yargh, I hate that one!

We get one in my neighborhood that plays "Do Your Ears Hang Low" and then this horrible lady's voice blares out: "Hello? He-ll-oooo?"

It sits on the corner right outside my window for 10, 15 minutes at a time.

I feel like waving a white flag at it.

Hmmm, do any of the kids (or their parents, or the ice-cream men) realize that "Do Your Ears Hang Low" is just a sanitized version of the old wartime ditty, "Do Your B**** Hang Low"? Really, truly. Think about the words.... not sure how far back it goes though, if the soldiers sang that during the Civil or Revolutionary war.

[fresco]

We have a couple of trucks that come by once in awhile, one even plays a techno version of Turkey in The Straw .

Yargh, I hate that one!

We get one in my neighborhood that plays "Do Your Ears Hang Low" and then this horrible lady's voice blares out: "Hello? He-ll-oooo?"

It sits on the corner right outside my window for 10, 15 minutes at a time.

I feel like waving a white flag at it.

Hmmm, do any of the kids (or their parents, or the ice-cream men) realize that "Do Your Ears Hang Low" is just a sanitized version of the old wartime ditty, "Do Your B**** Hang Low"? Really, truly. Think about the words.... not sure how far back it goes though, if the soldiers sang that during the Civil or Revolutionary war.

Hmm... haven't heard that one in years, but always thought it was English because of the line "like a continental soldier". Maybe the American version is different.

[NeroW]

We have a couple of trucks that come by once in awhile, one even plays a techno version of Turkey in The Straw .

Yargh, I hate that one!

We get one in my neighborhood that plays "Do Your Ears Hang Low" and then this horrible lady's voice blares out: "Hello? He-ll-oooo?"

It sits on the corner right outside my window for 10, 15 minutes at a time.

I feel like waving a white flag at it.

Hmmm, do any of the kids (or their parents, or the ice-cream men) realize that "Do Your Ears Hang Low" is just a sanitized version of the old wartime ditty, "Do Your B**** Hang Low"? Really, truly. Think about the words.... not sure how far back it goes though, if the soldiers sang that during the Civil or Revolutionary war.

My mom used to sing it to us as "Do Your Tits Hang Low?"

[Gifted Gourmet]

article in NYT

James Conway Sr., 78, a Founder of Mister Softee, Dies

Mister Softee is currently among the largest franchisers of ice cream trucks in the country, with more than 600 trucks in 15 states. Even more memorable than the company's soft ice cream is its jingle, played on a music box and broadcast through a loudspeaker atop each truck. Once heard, the song is not soon forgotten. For some listeners, it heralds summer. For others, it recalls childhood. For still others, it constitutes a form of torture.

Though the trucks play only an instrumental version, the tune does have words:

The CREAM-i-est DREAM-i-est SOFT ice CREAM

you GET from MIS-ter SOF-tee.

FOR a re-FRESH-ing de-LIGHT su-PREME

LOOK for MIS-ter SOF-tee....

Anyone remember this?