The sound of the ice cream truck off in the distance absolutely animated the neighborhood in my childhood. We'd hear that faint rendition of "Turkey in the Straw" and the marbles game would stop, we'd come down from the trees, all digging would stop, dolls would be cast aside. There was a scurry of activity to wheedle a nickel out of mom or if you were REALLY lucky, a dime.
One of those double frozen flavored-water bars were a nickel and that's all we got. I even had to break it between the two halves and share with my next-younger sister. We'd squabble in line on what flavor to get.....I liked grape and she liked cherry. "You picked the bar yesterday!" "No, I didn't!" "Not fair, I'm gonna tell Mom!" We never did, though, because she'd just say, "OK, if you can't stop fighting long enough to pick out a frozen bar, then you don't need one!" That took the wind out of our sails right quickly......
We still have one that goes through our neighborhood occasionally and I'm always tempted to run out and get something. I bet there's nothing less than $3 in there, though.
