Follow That Truck?

The experts say that our sense of smell is our greatest trigger of memories. While I can't disagree that the aroma of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies does ship me back in time to my Nana's kitchen or that cutting a fresh lemon does transport me back to the Amalfi Coast, I still think the ring of an old familiar song is the closest thing to a Time Machine voyage we human beings are ever going to experience. The song definitely remembers when - especially when the chimes of Turkey in the Straw (or as I know it, Do Your Ears Hang Low?) pierce the humid, summer air.

The ice cream man wasn't always a rip-off. When I was a kid (okay, be ready to be very jealous), The Good Humor Truck was the only game in town. The drivers in the crisp, white shirts delivered yummy, chemical-free treats to you and two of your best friends for less than a dollar. He didn't have a song then, just a bell; a bell that had every kid in the neighborhood salivating every bit as much as Pavlov's dog. The instant gratification of running to that truck with a pocketful of quarters and coming away with a frosty treat was the best. I tried my best to recreate the memory for my own kids but by that time, Good Humor ice cream was found in every grocery store and never tasted as good as it did when it was dripping down your arm while you were standing on the curb - not that I ever heard them complain.

Now that the independently owned ice cream trucks employ a song you can't get out of your head and serve $2.50 vanilla flavored, imitation chocolate-covered ice cream bars, I can't help feeling sorry for today's kids. It must be a tough sell trying to convince their moms to pony up the cost of a steak dinner for a handful of Popsicles.

But, there's no denying, there's something powerful about that damn song. Like a cobra popping out of that basket when his turbaned master picks up his flute, I've been close to jumping out of my car and tracking down that pied piper more than a few times and I haven't had a child looking up at me for more than fifteen years.

So maybe it doesn't matter that it's expensive. Maybe it doesn't matter if the quality isn't as good. Maybe all that matters is that it's part of your childhood - a part I know I'll want to share someday with my grandchildren.

I just hope I can afford those $10 Fudgesicles.