In my neck of the woods at the sunny Jersey shore, summer is a peak time for lots of fun and interesting activities involving sun, sand and sea. If you’re a kid, however, one of the best things about summer in my neighborhood—or most neighborhoods—is hearing the calliope sound of the ice cream truck rolling down your street. 

Whether it’s Mister Softee, Good Humor or Billy Bob’s Brain Freeze (O.K., I made that one up), the sound of the ice cream vendor sends the average kid into paroxysms as he tries to scare up the money for a treat while flagging down that seemingly fast-moving vehicle. Then comes the impossible task of matching one’s insatiable desire for ice cream with the amount of money one has been able to beg or borrow. 

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