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latenight Bombpop

Every night, the ice cream truck parks outside my house. With our front windows open, we hear its song which I believe is a wordless, jingle-belled version of Camptown Racetrack. Every night. Every night WELL PAST TEN O'CLOCK. Sometimes ELEVEN, eleven at night, in the dark, Camptown ladies sing this song, do-da, do-da, Camptown Racetrack five miles long, Oh diddley do-da day. GOING TO RUN ALL NIGHT! GOING TO RUN ALL DAY! BET MY MONEY ON THE BOBTAIL NAG, SOMEBODY BET ON THE BAY. CAMPTOWN LADIES DING THIS SONG, DO-DA, DO-DA, CAMPTOWN RACETRACK FIVE MILES LONG, OH DIDDLEY. DO. DA. DAAAAAAYYYYY ...

Comments

The most important question:

Do you buy anything from the truck? And if so, what...and please don't spare any of the details...I want my own personal ice cream truck.

Well, I have to say the ice cream truck was a welcome replacement for the late night gunshots that we used to have all the do-da day in Humbolt Park (hurry up Megan, get to an interior wall, there's the gunshots again!)
Ah, how I miss the big city...

I'm on a No Gunshot Street now, all kids and churches and ladies with gardens a few blocks South of our old Battle Central; however, a new McDonalds just opened on North and Kedzie and there appears to be a truce so folks can get their Big Mac on.

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