I Want to Live in a Food Truck

Located just off center of Oswego’s Five Corners crosshairs, a food truck named ‘Freddie’s Off the Chain Mexican Cuisine’ quietly waits. It doesn’t have to wait. It chooses too. As of now, the truck’s hours of operation are Friday through Sunday, serving their customers Mexican comfort food. With the recent migration of businesses downtown Oswego has seen, Freddie’s has done well. So much so, they plan on opening a restaurant, of the same name and menu, soon. But for now, their food truck sits.

There’s something special about food trucks. They’re tribal. Archaic. Not in the old, broken, remnant of a past-life connotation. Tradition- traditional, is a better word. Regardless of the fitting adjective, one of most picturesque scenes has to be a busy food truck on a summer’s day. The hum of the food truck’s grills cooking up the meal, the chef slicing and dicing, perfecting the simplest meals. The chatter of regular folks sitting in wood benches cutting through the soft breeze. Food trucks offer something better than what typical restaurants provide. A bring-us-back-down-to-Earth calmness. Center. They allow us to escape the smartphone-walking-and-talking android we’ve become and return our spirit to the homo sapiens that we are, and hopefully will remain.

Is it really worth mentioning? Do I have to state the obvious? As some kind of “safety measure” and so I don’t receive twitter-bot-backlash for not stating a “health issue” yeah, that delicious food that’s served out of that wonderful truck might not be the healthiest. I never said it was. And who cares! These majestic, pieces of equipment are stationed in big lots and open fields, or next to a family fun center for a reason. It’s on purpose this machinery chooses to produce wavelengths of scents from flavors and spices than Wifi and Internet. We know it’s not the healthiest food and God knows it should never be. We’re talking about food that’s literally delivered and served on a set of wheels. I don’t want this food to be heart-healthy or keto-friendly or integrated with the most punishable, guiltiest, fraud of them all…kale.

So give me the people. Give me the grill. Give me the sweat from the master chef hovering over hot burners making Mexican, American, Chinese, Japanese. Whatever you want, whatever that stomach is grumbling for. It was never about food in the first place. There’s no menu here made up with words that are an inbred concoction of French and Italian. There’s no black tie requirement. Need a coat check? Loop the sleeves and tie it around your waist. Give me a wood bench I can sit on that might give me a splinter or slice open my wrists. Feeling the sun on your skin and the breeze through your hair could NEVER equate to a violin quartet playing some crescendo of Mozart we pretend to know and love. Food trucks are for everyone. Food trucks are for family, blood and adopted. Politics aren’t discussed here. Finances aren’t mulled over at these tables. The food is good. The people are good. And the community’s stomachs aren’t the only things that are fed and full. Food trucks are the best. I want to live in a food truck.