Do ice cream trucks still exist?

In keeping with the theme of belatedly posting content, the following post was created 02/26/11.

I am sharing my boyfriend with his children this weekend. What this actually means is that I get to spend a lot of time “cleaning” the house while he is at his mother’s with his kids. They haven’t met me yet. It is, in my opinion, too early – especially considering that his wife doesn’t yet know he’s seeing anyone. Sometimes, I think I am the one guiding this whole process. I am an expert at divorce, despite never having been married. Thank you, Mom, for these small gifts.

I am not complaining, mind you. Time alone in the house gives me time to vegetate, and also time to do all those little nitpicky chores that he won’t ever notice, but that I certainly will. Things like cleaning the outside of all the doors, because a door is a first impression and I don’t want people thinking that the inside of my home will be icky before I even open it to allow them in. Though this house has a long way to go before I will willingly allow people inside.

It also gives me time to get used to the sounds the house makes. I will never understand that – how all houses have their own creaks and groans and random bangings. Sometimes, these things further convince me that this place is haunted. They certainly further convince The Boy that this place is haunted. But that is still a story for another time.

I’m also acclimating myself to the sounds of the neighborhood. It’s relatively quiet here, even though the “ghetto” is just a hopskipjump away. We are technically in the narrow margin between the “wrong side” of the tracks and the “right side.” It’s not a bad neighborhood. I rarely see the neighbors and never hear them, unless one of them is mowing the lawn. Someone knocked on the door earlier, but it was right after The Boy left, so I chose not to answer it. Because who knows what was out there. OMG, strangers! I don’t like strangers.

Earlier, I thought I heard an ice cream truck playing the tune of Justin Bieber’s Baby. But it couldn’t be, right? Do ice cream trucks even exist anymore? Probably not. And if they did, they would have better taste in music, right? Right.

I would certainly not want any ice cream infected with Bieber Fever.

No, really, do ice cream trucks still exist? And if so, where can I find one?

I lived in a trailer park when I was a kid, and there was an ice cream truck. We could hear it coming for miles. All the little trailer park children would run screaming to our parents, begging for dollars and quarters. That ice cream truck driver was like God in our little minds. I mean, really, what beats having ice cream delivered practically right to your door? Nothing, that’s what.

That is probably my best memory of that trailer park. Mostly because I don’t remember ever seeing an ice cream truck since then.