The music truck

Some of you, my wonderful readers, grew up in the sticks. Some grew up in the Suburbs. And an even smaller number of you grew up in the city. For people from the sticks, I'm not sure you had a music truck. I think the Schwan guy was the closes you got. For those of you who grew up in the city, it probably wasn't a truck but a guy with a little cart walking the streets and ringing a bell. But for those of us familiar with suburbia - there was the music truck. If you're unfamiliar with the music truck, it was a guy in an old mail truck that drove up and down the streets playing annoying music. He usually would wait outside elementary schools at the end of a school day to play music for the kids as they came out. Some kids would rush to his van and give him money. Mother said this was because thry liked his music, but that she didn't so we wouldn't give him money.

I don't remember at what age I found out that the music truck (with the music man) was not a music truck as my mother had told brother and I. It turns out that the guy in that truck sells ice cream. OOOhhh my mother - what a tricky woman. It was really an Ice Cream truck all those years. I could have been eating bubble gum ice cream or funnels or ice cream sandwichs or rockpops in my childhood instead of apples, if only I had known it wasn't a Music truck.

It is now summer here in Rexburg. Rexburg doesn't even have the Schwan guy. And definately no music trucks. I miss California.