Here's something you might be interested in.
Since I talked about finding broken gumball machines as a kid in yesterdays blog, I thought I would write about the time my friend Mike Garrido (yes, we called him Garrido the Burrito), came into class and said "You have to come to my house after school."
It wasn't such an unusual request. He lived four houses away from Hickman Elementary. And we often hung out there.
Well, when we walked over, I couldn't believe my eyes. Parked in the driveway was a huge, white, ice cream truck.
Mike said, "I know where the keys are, too." And, since we were in 5th grade, I didn't think that meant we'd take it out for a joyride.
We jumped inside, and again, I couldn't believe my eyes. Nothing inside the freezer compartments. We figured it probably would melt, sitting there all day. But when I looked on the shelves, I saw about 25 different kinds of bubble gum. We opened about six of them. And, boy, your mouth gets sore trying to chew them all at once. But it's delicious.
We closed the door, careful to lock it, and went inside his house. He led me down the hallway, and opened his parents bedroom door. There stood boxes and boxes, in all shapes and colors, of candy.
We opened a few. Ate a few.
And I went home. Not having an appetite for dinner.
The next day Mike came into class, not looking as happy as the previous day. I said, "Did you get a stomach ache from all the candy?" He replied, "No. A sore butt from my dad whipping me. And I'm grounded for two weeks."
If I remember right, he sold the truck a few months later, because it didn't make much money. But as a kid, those are the types of memories you never forget (and hey, I wasn't the one that got spanked).
Since I talked about finding broken gumball machines as a kid in yesterdays blog, I thought I would write about the time my friend Mike Garrido (yes, we called him Garrido the Burrito), came into class and said "You have to come to my house after school."
It wasn't such an unusual request. He lived four houses away from Hickman Elementary. And we often hung out there.
Well, when we walked over, I couldn't believe my eyes. Parked in the driveway was a huge, white, ice cream truck.
Mike said, "I know where the keys are, too." And, since we were in 5th grade, I didn't think that meant we'd take it out for a joyride.
We jumped inside, and again, I couldn't believe my eyes. Nothing inside the freezer compartments. We figured it probably would melt, sitting there all day. But when I looked on the shelves, I saw about 25 different kinds of bubble gum. We opened about six of them. And, boy, your mouth gets sore trying to chew them all at once. But it's delicious.
We closed the door, careful to lock it, and went inside his house. He led me down the hallway, and opened his parents bedroom door. There stood boxes and boxes, in all shapes and colors, of candy.
We opened a few. Ate a few.
And I went home. Not having an appetite for dinner.
The next day Mike came into class, not looking as happy as the previous day. I said, "Did you get a stomach ache from all the candy?" He replied, "No. A sore butt from my dad whipping me. And I'm grounded for two weeks."
If I remember right, he sold the truck a few months later, because it didn't make much money. But as a kid, those are the types of memories you never forget (and hey, I wasn't the one that got spanked).