the call

No, not that one.  The yaki imo one.  

You know, like the ice cream man, but instead he has … root vegetables. (Who says Japanese food isn’t healthier? <hides bag of cream puffs> )

Was sitting in the apartment, doing my internet thing, when this weird hypnotic voice intrudes onto my consciousness. I’d heard it once before…

“Yakiiiimoooooo” (say it ten times slow).

This triggered a flashback to two years prior, when I was watching a very serious archery shoot off.  The crickets weren’t even chirping.  You had five 60-70 year olds lined up, slowly and solemnly aiming at the distant target.  And then the chanting started, and everyone who understood it couldn’t help but snicker. Like someone’s Backstreet Boys ringtone going off as you make your golf swing.  Sort of, anyways.

Whereas last time I could only chuckle, this time I was inspired to grab me some roasty toasty sweet potato goodness. So out I went.  It’s getting chilly here, but a little jog to get me some carbohydrate goodness seemed in good order.  I caught up to the little truck, which had a little steamy wooden box on the back of it, and picked the smallest one (which is still a little large).  

It’s kinda nice that things like yaki imo trucks and ice cream people still exist.  I mean – what with suburban sprawl, and high rise apartments, you’d think that there either wouldn’t be enough people, or no one would be able to hear you from 30 floors up.  I’m on the eighth floor though, so maybe it’s not so bad.  I suppose it’s more for nostalgia’s sake than anything – and I don’t have anything to be nostalgic about in this case (and I was the only customer when I went by).  Maybe they won’t be around for so much longer.

Well – I’ll enjoy it while I’ve got it. Not bad for a cold autumn day.  Now for some tea…