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July 02, 2010

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When I was five or six or seven, during the summer the ice cream trucks would slowly creep up the streets, blasting out their indistinguishable music. We would grab two or three quarters and run out to the trucks, surrounded by other children. As I waited my turn, I would smell the sweet, warm smell of my Heath Bar ice cream treat, hopping up and down in excitement. It wasn't until years later, when I was a longshoreman loading freighters from forklifts that I realized the sweet, warm smell was the propane exhaust from the truck. Every morning when I started my forklift, I craved Heath Bar ice cream. How I treasure the sound of Mexican delivery trucks!

Colour coded deliveries..... how could they resist... a rather ingenius plan Madame!
I love the visions of little Candice peering from her bedroom window in extreme excitement awaiting the bookmobile... steamy snowsuits..... kind librarians.... the thrill of new books to open... what a perfectly wonderful childhood memory.
I will likely never forget the distinctive wail, or I should say, announcement of Zeta Gas.... Zeta Gas. You are stepping back into a realm that exists only in pockets... are you not so very excited that you have discovered and laid roots in one of those pockets..... GG

Love the fruit and vegie truck. You must hook up with the tamale man (or woman).

We had a door to door tamale man in our little Texas town when I was growing up. Yummy.

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