Ice Cream

Walking home from school today along the Panamerican Highway, my friends and I heard a familiar tune.  The nostalgic tinkle of the ice cream truck blared out behind us.  We all perked up, half-expecting, half-hoping to see a white conversion van with technicolor apliqués depicting different frozen treats plastered on its side.

Instead, we saw a beat-up old gray (metal-colored) sedan with a megaphone attached to the top using rusty wires.

I don’t think that vehicle had air-conditioning; I wonder if if had ice cream?

Oh, Guatemala.

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