North Sea in Summer 78. I don’t know why I’m putting this photo with this post.
Back in the eighties I had a job in Hollywood at a film camera rental place. Every morning, I think at about 10am, a food truck would come.
Maria, the receptionist, would announce the arrival of the truck but for some reason, the big boss didn’t want her to make the broadcast over the system intercom. She had to go to each individual extension.
My desk was near hers and every morning I’d get to hear it. Maria was (is?) an actress and she’d have to say it about 30 times often with great enthusiasm:
The truck is here.
THE TRUCK IS HERE.
The TRUCK is here.
The truck IS here.
The truck IS HEEEEE-RRRREEEEE.
And so forth. I’ve been out of touch with her for eons but if I had her phone number I’d call her right now and holler: The truck is here.
The truck food was pretty good. One of my favorites was the quesadilla which had a cilantro-y salsa folded inside and was the perfect combination of outer crunch and inside melty cheese. I don’t think I ate any other food from the truck.