This morning, on my way to work, I got stuck behind a taco truck. You know, this is one of those trucks that drive around town delivering hot, scrumptious, authentic Mexican food, mainly tacos and burritos, to a very loyal crowd of devotees.
I hate following trucks. I usually pull all kinds of illegal and unsafe maneuvers in order to get in front of different trucks. But today, I was mesmerized by the smells coming from this truck, through my air conditioning, and filling my car!! It was a heavenly smell. Fresh, handmade tortillas… mmm… Had we not been on a major thoroughfare, I would have gotten ahead of the truck and flagged it down. I’ve never wanted a breakfast burrito so badly in my entire life!
But for reals, what was I to do? How does one actually go about getting food out of these trucks? Do you just follow them until they stop? Certainly they must stop somewhere.. but where?
It’s a mystery.
I read in the paper about a woman that was driving and saw an average, red, octagonal stop sign with a black spray-painted word written below the word “STOP”. The word was “GRAFFITTI”. She used the example to teach her 10 year old son about the concept of irony. Her article went on to talk about some irony in life.
