Fruit Truck

Years ago, a friend of mine mentioned that a fruit truck drove regularly through their neighborhood.  I loved this idea.  A truck full of fruit that drives right up to your door?  Brilliant!  Why don´t I have one of those?

I´ve always been a been fan of my vegetable man at the market, but that´s a pretty hefty hike.  Particularly now that Clara can´t make it all the way there and back on foot, and now that she´s five, I fear that the double stroller is just not strong enough to support her weight anymore.  We use it, but every time I fear that it will be the last time.

All this fresh goodness for 50 pesos.  A little less than 5 dollars.

But, it turns out that we DO have a fruit truck that runs down my street every now and then.  The problem was (a few years ago) that the fruit truck announces its presence through a loudspeaker.  Just like the guys that come around buying scrap metal.  Both messages were equally lost on me amidst the static from the loudspeaker.

But in the winter one year, I distinctly heard the loudspeaker announcing oranges.  Oranges came rolling through the neighborhood a few times a week all winter.  (And they do every winter.)  Now that summer is upon us, melons are coming through just about every day.  If you buy Mexican-grown melons this time of year (or maybe any time of year), chances are good that it comes from my state of Coahuila, as the area around Torreon is rumored to be Mexico´s leading producer of melons.  So says the propaganda from the governor, at least!

I fly out the door when I can distinguish more exotic fruits:  mangos, strawberries, and last week they came around with plums.  Strawberry season seems to have passed us, but we get every bit as excited about plums.  So good.

But whenever we´re low on fruit, and the truck is just full of melons.  I´ll take my 20 pesos and get 4.  They´re so perfect and fresh that this time of year I can even get excited about one of my least favorite fruits.

If I ever have to move back to the US, I´ll sure miss the fruit truck.