05/29/2026
There was no one on the wide neighborhood streets but a man pushing an ice cream cart with what looked like a small French bulldog riding shotgun. As he got closer, I realized it wasn't a dog at all, but the speaker from which music—and occasionally the man's voice—emerged. The speaker produced little more than a static gargle.
Not a person was in sight.
Still, like a newcomer riding into town, the man in the black hat and satin orange shirt didn't seem discouraged.
