SNAFU = Southern Newburyport All Fogged Up

The weather was all but promising for Tuesday's overcast adventures aboard '151. I had a corporate gig to attend in Salisbury, which of course netted half the number of employees promised. With that out of the way, I set forth on my typical Newburyport route. The island was somewhat dead, no sign of those two girls that posed on my truck the week before... Of course it all made sense when I looked down at the ambient temperature reading -- 65°F.

The neighborhoods were just as bad, even when the sun managed to poke through the clouds. I had one grumpy old bastard yell at me and make obscene gestures to turn off the music. After I finished that side of 95, I took a spin through the neighborhoods near downtown. I saw my friend Lisa whose son had come out to the truck to buy stuff and had a nice chat about the upcoming Simpsons Movie and how the ice cream truck should be converted into some semblance of a Saab.

After the downtown region, I decided for one last go on Plum Island. By the time I finished, I couldn't see across the basin to the other side of the island from all the fog -- I called it a night at 7:40. I thought that I'd be the first one back, the subject of criticism the next day for not sticking it out till dusk... boy, was I in for a shock when I got back to Eliot and and saw all but one other truck parked for the day. I guess I wasn't the only one to have a crappy day. That was my thought until I actually totaled up the day and ended up doing pretty well after all.

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!

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.