Plum Island double-dipper and a Swedish Challenge!

I think I've figured out my lifestyle for when I get rich... buy a condo at some ski resort up north to live in during the winter, and live on Plum Island the rest of the year. It's almost hard to remember that I'm in Massachusetts when I'm out there. 99% of the folks are real friendly, the beach looks really nice and houses aren't all that expensive anyway... well, relative to some of the mansions up on Little Boars' Head or Rye. But I digress.

My day started in the humble town of Eliot, ME as always. I arrived about 10:30 so I could get my truck really spiffed up for the day's activities. Once I cleaned out the previous driver's trash and empty boxes, I took the truck over to where the hose was hanging and gave the truck a thorough cleaning inside and out. A quick stop at Irving to confirm the tank's fullness and it was off to I-95. I brought my EZ-Pass so I wouldn't have to stop to pay the toll -- any superfluous acceleration up to 50mph would cost a lot more than the $1 toll. A few minutes later, I was at Exit 57 in Massachusetts and ready to make some money.

My first stop, of course, was Plum Island. Apparently, there is a competing ice cream truck that has Newburyport as a territory. I've never seen said truck, but apparently the driver that had my truck the day before passed said truck heading to the island and didn't make a dime out there. By getting to the island nice and early, I could make a ton of sales and scope out which rental houses were occupied so when I made my 2nd pass at 8:30pm, I'd know what areas to concentrate on. Hot British Nanny is actually Hot British MILF, much younger than her husband I'd guess but whatev. After dubbing around on the island for an hour or so, I headed inland to start the sweep of neighborhoods.

Nothing too exciting really happened in the neighborhood routes, just sold a ton of ice cream. Didn't get kicked out of the skate park, so that made my afternoon as every kid bought something. The truck didn't stop rolling until I settled down at the wharf for a few minutes around 6. Alas, nobody on the wharf wanted ice cream so I just kicked around more neighborhoods in the eastern part of downtown. Making my way back out to Plum Island, there was a good line of cars behind me, but the speedometer in the truck said I was doing the limit so I just kept on going. When I arrived at the island and pulled over to make a sale, some ass in a Passat yelled out his window "You should have done that 3 miles ago!". Well, there's one house that I'm sure was not getting ice cream. I was flagged down by a family in one of the rental houses. The Quebecois used a translator to order all the ice cream and it was funny to see them all try to make sense of what I had to offer. After that, I headed out towards the lighthouse. I saw a party with folks my age hanging out on the front porch and made it a point to stop there on the way back. When I did, I sold a great deal of ice cream and partook of their peace offering. Safety Steve would be a sad panda.

Never the less, it was getting to be about 9:15 and I wanted to get home at some point, so I shut down for the night and made my way north to Maine to return the truck. I had used an unprecedented amount of gas in my adventures, over 13 gallons! I fueled the truck and brought it back across the street to the yard. I had the last parking spot available, but when I landed, I realized that all the power cords to run the compressors on the trucks were transposed down by one spot, so I had to go unplug every truck and re-plug them with the appropriate cord. Once my inventory was set and truck was secured, I returned to the Saab and started to make my way home.

But it doesn't end here, no no! I was just getting onto I-95 South at the Maine/NH Border in Eliot, already doing 85 because I had been driving the ice cream truck all day and needed to feel some thrust from a turbocharged mill. As I sped over the Piscataqua River bridge into NH, a black Volvo station wagon inched closer to me in the right lane. Naturally, as I rounded the curve after the bridge, I matted the go pedal and left him very much in my dust. Then, I don't know if it was driving in a 126*F truck all day, but it looked like the Volvo was gaining on me! We were on the bridge over the Spaulding Turnpike at this point and I could visually confirm the lack of authorities ahead, so I said to myself "That fucker better not have a Turbo" and I pulled right up to 110mph. Once he was a good 1/4 mile behind, I ducked off at Exit 3B and stayed in the left-most left hand turning lane to head towards Stratham on NH-33. I sat at the light for a good 30 seconds and there were those distinctive 240 headlights in my mirror. The light turned green as he slowed down, I matted it, naturally sloshing through the gears as he ran side by side with me. "Fuck it!" I exclaimed as I punched the throttle once more, pulling from 40 to 60 in the blink of an eye. He knew it was over, backed off and I drove home a tired and smug man.

Yes, a 9-5 vs. a 240 is like putting Peyton Manning in a Special Olympics touch football game, but it's not so often I get to have this sort of fun!

A few days off...

Yep, I'm off the schedule till Monday so some other greenhorns can get out there and drive the rusting fleet. I'm going though some pretty bad ice cream truck withdrawal today... I kept trying to press a button to set off the bells whenever I saw a hot chick walking down the street. Driving the Saab is completely different now, so smooth and fast!

There will be a new post next Tuesday, unless I get called in to drive. In which case, there will be tales of conquest even sooner! Peace.

Berwick, Somersworth and my redneck past...

After a brief stop off at my office in Greenland, I went up to Eliot to grab a truck and do whatever route the Sandra said I'd be doing. Alas, it was not Newburyport... that brought me great sadness as I really wanted to go back out onto Plum Island and try to get that hot British nanny's number. Instead, I was given the South Berwick, Berwick, Somersworth and possibly Rollinsford route with a 3:30 gig at a day care center just near my buddy Steve's Saab repair garage.

Wasting no time, I ensured the truck was stocked and gassed. I made my way westward from the yard and arrived in South Berwick some 7 minutes later. I tooled around to get a feel for the area, then ventured into a neighborhood. As I wound through the streets and down a hill into a cul-de-sac, three buxom coeds in bikinis emerged from their house! Great success! I knew that despite the overcast skies and occasional drizzle from above that it was gonna be a lovely day. I managed to sell a bit of ice cream in South Berwick proper, and then made my way towards Berwick and Somersworth not long thereafter.

Before crossing into New Hampshire, I managed to make a few sales in and around the intersection of Routes 236 and 9. I then took a nice drive up Route 108 in Somersworth, with minimal success pulling into various car dealerships and businesses. Then came the motherload -- a pool party! That made up for every mechanic that didn't throw down the Snap Ons and come get ice cream. I continued back into downtown Somersworth and subsequently back towards Maine. It was getting to be 3-o-clock and I had to be over at that day care in Berwick for 3:30. I decided to go visit my buddy Steve as my buddy Ken needed a seat repair kit for his 1984 Saab 900 Turbo.

I pulled up and parked the truck so it would be partially obscured from Steve's viewpoint. His younger son was in a 1989 900, futzing around like little kids do but Steve was nowhere to be found. I walked into the garage and encountered Steve and his older son getting repair instructions off the computer. So I get to talking with Steve and I somehow brought up "...well that's better than what I'm driving". Steve asks "What are you driving?" to which I responded "The uh, Nine-Ice Cream Truck". Suffice to say, the youngest of the Snow clan got himself a Ninja Turtle pop and I was on my way to give ice cream to the kids up the street.

Upon landing the rusting hulk at the day care center, I was quickly trust back 20 years to a time when I once lived under that regime... forced naptime, smelly kids, Teddy Bear peanut butter and the constant smell of tempera paint no matter where you were. The warden, er, day care lady let the kids out two at a time from the fenced in pen to get their ice cream. But in the end, it wasn't so bad -- sold like $60 worth of ice cream and caught a smile from the cutest girl on the staff! As I left, I pondered my next move for the day and decided it was time to unleash the daily piece-de-resistance -- traveling to outlying neighborhoods where the truck never goes!

So I hopped on one of the roads that headed north from Berwick proper and spent a good hour and a half selling lots of ice cream in the sticks. When I returned to Berwick, I parked the truck by the baseball field and ate dinner. I managed to snag a few sales in the half an hour or so I was parked there, but knew that the real money would come in the approaching dusk across the river in Somersworth. So when the coast looked clear, and the game was in the 3rd inning or so, I knew I had about an hour to go do what I had to do. And I did. Somersworth was a lucrative market and when I returned to the field in Berwick, the game was just letting out so I managed to rake in a few more bucks.

I had tapped the Berwick market, so it was time to head to South Berwick for a nighttime sweep of the faithful neighborhoods. Before I did that, though, I went into Rollinsford, NH for a few minutes and managed to clean up at the end of an adult softball league game. My last stop of the night came soon thereafter in South Berwick where some lady bought an obscene amount of product, and even some for her neighbors. Crazy! So the short ride back to Eliot came and went, and I found myself gassing up the truck for the night alongside the guy who does the Rochester route. Now this guy looked very familiar when I started, but I couldn't place him. Well we got to talking and as it turns out, he just moved down from Claremont 4 months ago and lived there at the same period of time when I did. Small world.

I forgot to grab an order form in the morning, so I'd have to come back and do that in the morning. All in all, a good day and that's 4 more towns I've got figured out.

No Child Left Behind

Today I got to go out on my actual route - Newburyport, MA. I arrived at the office around 11 with my iPod dock/speaker setup, lunch and cash box all ready to roll. I cashed out for the previous day and prepped the truck for the 30 mile southbound journey into my territory. This was the first time I'd had one of the trucks out on the highway myself, or for that matter, a truck with a working speedometer. Topping up the gas tank, I gave the truck a last once-over and headed to I-95.

The truck did not-to-sixty in about 3 minutes, and I stuck to the right lane. Everything was great until I encountered what I thought would be an even slower vehicle than mine just after exit 3B on 95... the state street sweeper. I was doing about 55 (sssh, Safety Steve says the truck can only go 45!) and I managed to pass this thing while it was in the shoulder lane. Then about a minute later I looked in the rearview mirror and he was gaining on me! The picture at right is the aftermath of that most severe pwnage.

Fifteen minutes later, I pointed the truck to exit 57 in Massachusetts to start my Newburyport route. Having a sneaking suspicion that the kids were still stuck in school, I decided to take a ride out to Plum Island to see if I could stir up any touristy business in that neck of the woods. Sure enough, I managed to snap up a few sales and establish my presence along what should be a very well traveled route as the summer heats up. I encountered a cute blond British nanny with a handful of kids near the lighthouse, I'm hoping they will be repeat customers! After a good hour and a half making my way around the island, I headed inland. By this point, school was letting out and that meant new opportunities to sell stuff. I ended up landing the truck on a side street near the high school and acquired a few good sales. When I felt my welcome had been worn out, I took a spin by a friend's house on an adjacent street. A couple of kids stopped me, bought some ice cream and told me that the skate park was the place to get business. Well, what else could I do, right?

The skate park was visible from where I was sitting, but only accessible through the Middle School's parking lot. So I made my way over to the Middle School parking lot, and just as the kids told me, swarms of skaters made their way over to the truck. I must have sold a good $30 worth of ice cream before the principal of the Middle School came over to have a chat. He basically gave me the whole "it's school property, so you can't be here" talk -- so I shook his hand and acknowledged that it wouldn't happen again. I shut the cooler and hopped back in the drivers seat. As soon as my ass touched the vinyl, one more kid walked up to the side of the truck. "Sorry buddy, they told me I can't sell here anymore..." I explained. "Aww, come on man... just one more?" he pleaded. "Sure, what the hell, kid" I exclaimed as I fetched him his frosty treat. Just then, the principal noticed the transaction in progress and gave me a rather stern look. I wrapped up the transaction and put the wheels in motion, making sure to kick up the ol' music box an extra notch and yelled out the window, "HEY! NO CHILD LEFT BEHIND!" He just shook his head and walked off.

I then ventured to the land that Newburyport forgot... the other side of I-95. When they built I-95 in the 1950's as a "Route 1 Replacement", they routed it away from the middle of downtown Newburyport in the middle of existing farm land and whatnot. Widening of this road in the 1970's cut off a number of smaller roads that used to traverse the city and left only a few roads connecting one half of the city with the other. Anyway, all roadgeekery aside, I combed the neighborhoods on the other side of town with great precision and scored a great deal of business that I'm hoping will be repeat business as the summer goes on. It is also fair to mention the great deal of attractive babysitters that work in this city, brings me great joy as I tool around in the giant white box on wheels.

The neighborhood trolling went on till 8 or so... at which point I decided to take a swing through the waterfront area downtown and try to close out the day on a high note. I did manage to get a few more sales, and that was good enough for me. I headed back to the highway and north to Maine to drop off the truck for the night. All in all, a great day that will set the stage for many more.

Hampton in the '555

I called the office this morning to tell them I wanted in, to which the immediate response was "come in tomorrow to watch the safety video and we'll put you on a route". So a day at my real job was shaping up... until I was 100' out of my driveway. Cell phone reads off the number of the office over the car's audio system and I picked it up. "Carl, we've just had an opening today... how soon can you be here?" I told her 25 minutes, put a little gas in the Saab and headed to pick up my truck.

I savored every minute of spirited Swedish motoring as I knew things were going to get a lot crappier behind the wheel of a Grumman. I cranked the stereo and my minuscule amount of turbo boost, two luxuries I'd lack for the next 9 hours. I arrived right when I said I would, lunch in hand. I got to watch 12 glorious minutes of "Safety Steve", with his 1986 polysynth soundtrack, reminding me that a Grumman box van with a 900lb freezer unit mounted longitudinally along one side of said vehicle will be top heavy and unable to maneuver fast corners.

Once the video was over, I was assigned my route. Today I'd be covering Hampton, NH in the '555 truck. I was given a cash box and all was right with the world as my truck sat idling outside, already stocked to the brim with frosty treats. I hopped aboard and stuck my lunch in the freezer. All the electronics checked out so I slapped it in drive and hit the road for Hampton. Now I am scared to death to put one of these things on I-95, so I took Route 1 south into Downtown Portsmouth. At noon, nobody was really clamoring to buy ice cream so I managed to sneak through the general mid-day din of my favorite city in the state. I arrived in North Hampton at the first destination some 15 minutes later. When I pulled into the parking lot of this limo company that I was told to visit, the music box didn't work! I frantically checked all the connections in the truck, the fuses, all that... I called the guy that works on the trucks and he told me to check the splice outside at the loudspeaker. Sure enough, the positive supply to the speaker had failed at the butt connector. I stuck it back together as best as I could and commenced to bring attention to myself.

I made my first sale at a little used car dealer on Route 1 -- practically everyone came out when I rolled through! It was then when I realized that an ice cream truck can't go anywhere without grabbing attention. I rolled through some neighborhoods and then stopped along the sea wall (see right) to have some lunch and you know, not attract business or anything. In driving through some of the neighborhoods and past the schools around the time the kids would be getting out, I realized that the kids were out for the summer and I could really crank up the marketing initiative.

So up and down the streets of Hampton I drove, selling a ton of ice cream and planning the next move. I ventured over 101 and 95 to a couple of recommended neighborhoods and ended up in a trailer park where my presence was not appreciated by one woman. She ran out of her garage and started yelling at me about how it was a retirement park and nobody wanted ice cream, how the manager would chase me out of there and they'd call my boss. I just laughed as I drove off. Hey, my boss wouldn't care if she got that call -- it just means I was trying new places!

After that bombshell, it was getting to be about 6:30 and there was about two hours of decent sales opportunities left. I made one last appearance at the sea wall for 5 minutes then cruised the neighborhoods for the remainder. One quick bite from the dollar menu and I was on my way back up Route 1 to return the truck. As I made my way on to State Street off Middle Street in Portsmouth, three girls loudly acknowledged my presence as I started to speed up. So my last stop of the day was right on State Street. I brought the truck to the Irving station, gassed 'er up with $28.09 of the North Atlantic's finest regular fuel and drove across the street to park the truck for the night.

One day down -- many more to go.

Training

I arrived at the office in Maine this morning around 10 or so -- an hour early to get an idea of how things work behind the scenes. The manager was there and very pleased to see me at such an early point in time. While I waited around and got to know more about the business, more trainees arrived and were assigned to their respective shadow positions. I learned that I would be learning all about the truck-based business on the Dover route. When my buddy for the day showed up, we made our way out to the imposing fleet of mid-1970's vintage Grumman box vans. We prepped the truck, restocked the coolers where necessary and set out on our journey. Within 500' of leaving the parking lot, the deficiencies of the truck's roadhandling capabilities were realized. Nothing ever seems to get completely repaired on these trucks, but rather Mickey Moused to the point where it works again. I saw the owner of the company painting a truck with a roller and ordinary house paint today... seems about as futile as my mom trying to fix the rust spot on the refrigerator by painting over it! But I really shouldn't knock the frugality of the company -- they run a tight ship and I am quite impressed so far. So as we made our way to the highway on this partly-sunny Fathers Day 2007, I was told that the trucks are incapable of going over 45mph and handle poorly at any speed over 5mph. I had yet to drive the truck at this point, so this remained to be seen. A quick blast over the Piscataqua and onto the Spaulding Turnpike landed the truck at Hilton Park. A few customers came over and bought stuff and then we moved onto some neighborhoods in Dover Point. After a couple of hours, my buddy had to grab some food. Seeing as how by this point we had moved far enough down Dover Point Road so that dropping into Burger King wouldn't be an issue. I was given the privilege to pilot the rickety machine around some neighborhoods while he ate his lunch and whatnot. The Grumman Box Van paled in comparison to some of the worst vehicles I ever recall having driven... aside from my old 1993 Honda Civic LX, that list would include a 1960-something Triumph TR-4 and a 1991 Alfa Romeo 164 among others. You sit upright with the steering wheel, the diameter of a decent sized large pizza, in your lap. The brake pedal is about 6" closer to you than the gas. I had to keep my right leg kinked outward to be able to move between the pedals effectively. The seat has absolutely no cushioning, a rather futile attempt at a seatbelt and one adjustment -- up or down. Anyway, push came to shove and we drove around for a few more hours... returned the truck around 8pm and that was that. I won't make a thin dime until I have a chat with the boss lady and get my schedule set up. I am exhausted, and not just because all I could smell all day were uncatalyzed emissions from the mighty Chevy 250 I-6 under the "doghouse" but because I'm getting up earlier and earlier to allow this and my other venture to co-exist. Goodnight.

Preface to a summer unlike any other...

I am sitting in my office right now as I write this. Yes, it's a beautiful Saturday afternoon here on the seacoast of New Hampshire, almost too beautiful to be cooped up indoors, but this is the beginning of a major change in the way I do business in my 9 to 5 world. Starting tomorrow, my primary business of designing, building and shipping iPod adapters for Saabs will lay claim to new hours within the day as I shift things around to take a second job to stay afloat.

The road that led me to this point is an expensive one, full of mistakes and empty promises. The iPod adapter I had been working on was supposed to be out almost a year ago, but when the software contractor I hired off Craigslist delivered a sub-par product $6,500 over budget, I was stuck fixing a lot of mistakes. Meanwhile, I was still taking orders for the iPod adapter that was gaining an ever growing backlog. Finally I threw it all down and said enough is enough; I stopped taking orders so I could focus on filling old orders first, then gradually ramping things back up. This of course meant that the anticipated profit from new orders dried up and I needed to find a part-time job to fill the void to not only keep my financial situation in check, but also to keep the overhead at the shop in check as well.

Could I be a bouncer at a bar downtown? How about a Barista at Starbucks? I started combing the Portsmouth Herald, hoping to find some graveyard shift thing that would let me be at my facility during the day. Then one ad jumped out at me -- I called and was welcomed up to their office for an interview. Suffice to say, I got the job and hence this blog was created to follow my daily travels as... an ice cream truck driver.

Hop aboard and try your best to ignore the music box... life is too short not to take up an opportunity like this, so check back every day for the latest and greatest from behind the wheel of the big ol' freezer on wheels.

CL