There are a variety of things we’d stopped doing as a couple, one of which was Road Trips. Not every weekend, but many, the BH and I used to just go for a drive and see where we landed. It’s not great for the planet, sure, but it was good for us. We listened to music, laughed, talked, pointed out the windows at cows and chickens and made the respective animal noises and otherwise ensured that A Good Time Was Had By All. And one of the ways we ensured a good time was ice cream. There always had to be ice cream, preferably at a roadside stand along the way– if we came up dry there was a really good soft serve place in town that more than sufficed before we got home.
It started to peter out when we moved back to Boston, then moreso this last year or so. So on Monday, the BH suggested a road trip.
We meandered, we wandered, we let the GPS squawk without heeding it overmuch. We ended up in New Hampshire and were wending our way home when the below caught our eye. We screeched to a halt in the midst of the road and engaged in a bold U-turn, then descended on the ice cream stand like a bunch of kids after little league. (Ok. We slowed responsibly, turned into an insurance agency parking lot, turned around and parked before proceeding in a reasonable manner into the store while only elbowing three or four toddlers in the head.)
Our roadtrip was therefore successful.
Brightly painted exterior? Check. American flag? Check. That characteristic low building with an overhang above the walkup counter with pillars out front? Check.
All the sundae flavors and toppings your greedy heart can desire, plus Richardson’s (16% butterfat, yeah baby), the Ice Cream of My Youth? Check.
Commemorative t-shirts and ice cream cakes, Party Food of the Gods? Also a check.
And last but not least, a medium cup of Butter Crunch ice cream eaten outside on a sticky picnic table. I tell you, butter is jealous of this ice cream for its buttery goodness, complete with butterscotch shards.
And lo, A Good Time Was Had By All.