When I was growing up in Rockford, Illinois in the early 1960s there were tons of baby boom kids in the neighborhood and houses were springing up in the cornfields as far as the eye could see. One thing I was reminded of by a cousin at my mother's 100th birthday was the ice cream man.
The ice cream man back in the day did not drive a truck. He pedaled a three wheeled bike around the neighborhood. It had a little bell that jangled as he pedaled. I am not sure whether he had dry ice or just regular ice in his ice cream chest on the front of the bike.
I do remember that popsicles were a dime. There were some other treats, dreamsicles and "bombs" and probably some more things. But they cost more. Mom gave us each a dime and we got popsicles. They tasted like heaven on a hot summer day. The colored melt would run down my arm and legs. It would stain my clothing. But, it was a taste of delicious.
The ice cream trucks I see today offer many better treats than I had way back when. They are certainly more expensive than one thin dime. But, nothing tasted better than the popsicles of my memory.
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