Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Of Ice Cream and Men

Trucking around this great land of ours gets us near some interesting places.

Usually that's all we manage, a drive-by style of tourism.


We drove through Hershey, Pennsylvania but didn't get to stop and spend time at Hershey Park.  Which is ok by me because I'm not a big fan of roller coasters. Or crowds. Or chocolate.

I fiddled with the colors here,
to get that end-of-the-world-
menacing-Hershey Kisses-look.

Did you know that Hershey Park began as a picnic grounds for Hershey Company employees in the early 1900's? 

We drove so close to the park, that I
could have spit out the window
and hit the roller coasters.
Not that I would.

*action photo*
Isn't it cool how the tree
kind of melds into the wooden coaster?

I was surprised that the truck route went so close by the park. The roads were narrow and windy, the Hershey Kisses street lamps were looming in a hostile manner too close to the truck, and then this:

Oh goody!
Let's do rock, paper, scissors
to see who goes first.

But sometimes we actually get to stop at the interesting place and then good times are had by all.

Or not.

Le Mars, Iowa is the Ice Cream Capital of the World. And we went there.

The company that makes Blue Bunny ice cream, Wells Enterprises, has been located in Le Mars since 1913, and more ice cream is produced by them than any other single company in the world.

We visited the Blue Bunny Ice Cream Parlor and Museum last week.

I was excited, by proxy, because Himself loves ice cream. This cannot be understated. He would eat it everyday, several times a day if not for his Superman like self-control. That and the fact that the freezer in our truck is the size of a walnut.

We also wanted to get a tour of the ice cream factory, but they wouldn't let us. The FDA or OSHA or some other un-American organization forbids such things.

Strike one for the old Blue Bunny.

I think Himself had visions of helping out on the line and getting caught up in some I Love Lucy-like episode where he has to eat all the ice cream that's coming down the conveyor belt to keep up production.

It was more ice cream parlor than museum but still, we had high hopes of eating massive quantities of ice cream in every flavor the Blue Bunny makes.

We walked around quickly and read the obligitory ice cream propaganda and then saddled up to the counter before Himself exploded with anticipation. Plus, the drool was getting everywhere.

I ordered a strawberry scoop in a waffle bowl and Himself picked out something called a Frio Grande, described as vanilla ice cream topped with toasted cinnamon coconut and crunchy bits of angels wings or something.

We watched as the gal behind the counter took out a small bag and plop out a ball of something on a plate. It was the Frito Bandito.

She scooped out my strawberry ice cream and put it in the waffle bowl and served our plates. The dejected look on the face of the stoic Himself made me so sad that I pushed my bowl at him and tried to trade.

But no. He wouldn't hear of it. He ate his stale, pre-packaged lump of pseudo angels wings with the patience of Job.

Strike two, Blue Bunny.

And that's enough for me because I don't like baseball. Or Blue Bunny.

This picture is in the "museum".
I should have known then
that there would be no angels wings.


  1. Feel so sorry for Himself. I can see Hem anticipating a smorgasbord of ice cream flavors and 6 spoons. Next time you're in LeMars, give Old Blue another try.

  2. Doug, Himself is nothing if not hopeful about ice cream! He wouldn't turn down the offer, I'm sure.

  3. Aww, what a sad story - I'd be disappointed, too! Who doesn't love the sweet, sweet flavor of angels' wings?
    For some reason I'm not getting your posts in Google Reader (stupid Google), so I subscribed by e/m, too - I don't want to miss any menacing photos of invading chocolate treats!

  4. that tree does look like it's getting ready to leap up there on the roller coaster track.

    so...after hoping we'd get to see a glimpse of the Blue Bunny himself...all we get is a clown wearing a fanny pack?!!

    strike 3 blue bunny!

  5. Limited to one truck? What kind of sissy bridges are they building in Pennsylvania? It was probably made out of chocolate.

  6. Robyn, I appreciate you going to all the trouble to subvert the Google. They are in cahoots with the chocolate people, obviously. And we are like freedom fighters with a taste for angels wings.

    Laura, I did have a picture of the Blue Bunny, but it went against my principles to promote his image, given that he is a big fat liar. Plus, at least a seriel killer looking clown has some personality.

    Christian, you may be onto something there, they are sissies. What kind of self-respecting macho construction worker (like in the Village People) would erect Kisses streetlamps?

  7. As for your ability/desire to spit out the window and hit the roller coaster - well, I remember a phase you went thru many, many moons ago when you loved to spit. It was something you saw our Pappy doing and you decided to copy what you perceived to be an extremely cool thing to do. As I recall, you were pretty good at it too with both distance and aim. I secretly admired you but was too afraid of getting in trouble to try it myself. I just remember it infuriating Mama as she saw it as so unladlylike, which for her was a major sin. You did so enjoy it and I was sad that you were forced to stop something that obviously brought you much joy. Anyway, my whole point is that I know that deep down inside you probably really did want to spit on that roller coaster and I wonder if you even remember your long ago penchant for spitting. Hope this wasn't TMI.
    P.S. I too, am heartbroken for Himself's dissapointment. I wanted so bad for his experience to be something akin to the look Jas had on her face after tasting whip cream on her nose. Pure bliss.

  8. Cari, of course I remember the spitting era; my mouth was bone dry for a year! I may have done it a *bit* more often than was necessary. :)

  9. From the looks of the building, you were obviously in the wrong place. After all, how can you expect to get good ice cream in a Pew building??


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