Corina and I were out driving a little after 9pm in Cambridge. She had mentioned she wanted something cold and I was in the mood for a popsicle, so I drove to the closest Lil Short Stop. As I pull into the parking lot of the strip mall I’m confronted by the most glorious of sights. One of those old school ice cream trucks parked in the lot, it was so ideal given we had wanted to something along those lines anyways. And as would luck would have it, the light was on and a guy was inside. Screw popsicles when I could get one of those ice cream ghosts with the bubble gum nose. So I pull in right beside it and get out of the car and walk over. I can see the guy inside is talking on a cell phone and pacing back and forth in the truck as I approach. He then notices me and I can tell he’s not very happy. He opens the slide window and tells me rather curtly “I’m not selling ice cream”. That dashed my dreams of having an ice cream ghost quite quickly. It just left me wondering, if he’s there after 9pm under the false auspices of selling delicious ice cream, what was he really there for? Was it like that episode of the Simpsons where they were under surveillance by the FBI and had the “Flowers By Irene” truck parked across the street? Who knows? Either way it just seemed real sketchy. In the end I settled for a chocolate popsicle from Lil Short Stop. It was no ice cream ghost.