Page 2 / News, Trends, Gossip and Stuff To Do : She Brings Sweet Relief

By midmorning, Cheyenne Irsheid feels summer’s heat coming on. As she walks into Tropical Ice Cream-Pomona, even before she begins her tasks, beads of sweat form beneath her eyeglasses. It’s going to be a hot one.

She exchanges greetings with Wylie Pearsall, 78 and retired from driving ice-cream trucks. He lives in back of the building now, doing whatever small things emphysema allows him to do.

Cheyenne says she and Wylie are of the “Over the Hill Gang,” having started out in the business at about the same time in the 1960s. Wylie can’t recall exactly what year that was.

“Dates don’t mean much to me anymore,” he says.

Cheyenne, 61, decides it must have been 1963. Back then, they drove “hop-outs,” trucks requiring drivers to climb out of the cab and come around to the side to serve customers.

She quit after only a couple weeks. “One of the guys pinched me on the butt,” she explains, “and that was that.”

Since then, there have been more jobs than she can remember. She worked as a go-go dancer until her knees went-went. She served cocktails, worked as a janitor but through the years always returned to the frozen treats and never-ending song of ice-cream trucks.

What she loves about this work is the children. On her former route in Hacienda Heights, where she drove about 10 years, kids brought her presents--a necklace, a key chain.

“There were kids that bought from me that I seen grow up to be teenagers, and then they got married and were bringing their kids to buy from me,” she says.

She makes her purchases and totes boxes of ice cream to the 1973 truck she leases for $35 a day. Before heading out, she warms the engine and takes a breather in the driver’s seat, removing her Winnie the Pooh cap, wiping her brow, reaching up and connecting two wires with a clothes pin to send blades of a small fan spinning.

In her own childhood, ice-cream vendors brought more than ice cream, she says. They delivered a taste of excitement and cool joy on simmering summer days.

“When I was a kid,” she says, “my mom let us buy ice cream from the Good Humor man once every two weeks. Back then there were only three choices, Drumsticks, ice cream bars and ice cream sandwiches. I liked them all.”

There is more to choose from now: ice cream in the shape of the Power Rangers, Batman and other cartoon characters. She has Choco Tacos, Pokemon trading cards, and Mississippi Mud, but the old-timers still hold true. Drumsticks and ice cream sandwiches are among her bestsellers.

By 11 a.m., she is on the road to Diamond Bar, where she slows the truck to a crawl and flips on the music. In true ice cream truck tradition, “Turkey in the Straw” begins its daylong announcement of her arrival through wide, clean and mostly empty streets.

“This land used to be one big ranch,” she says. “One man owned all this land, and you could drive for miles and see nothing but cattle--cattle and more cattle.”

She sees a young boy across the street. A car has to slow down to allow him to cross. This infuriates Cheyenne.

“You know better than that,” she scolds. “You’re supposed to look both ways. Did you see that car coming? You were almost a grease mark.”

The boy’s expression is one of ambivalence.

“When’s your cousin coming back from Louisiana?” she asks, in a milder tone.

“November,” he says.

It’s nice to be around children who are happy to see her coming, she says. “There’s one little boy with leukemia. I look forward to seeing him, and there are two girls farther up the route who painted pictures for me one Sunday. I still got them at the house.”

The vehicle moans slowly up hills, giving her time to notice small things, the bloom of flowers from one day to the next, the work of gardeners on front lawns. Near the curb, in the shadow of a tree, Cheyenne spots something. “That shoe’s been out there for two weeks now,” she says.

On a great day, which today isn’t, she might take home $130. She drives five or six days a week until 6:30 p.m., except for Tuesdays, when she returns to the warehouse at 6 so she can go to church.

“It’s better than sitting at home doing nothing,” she says before repeating her mantra. “I look forward to seeing the kids.”

She likes to make them smile, and she remembers them when they are gone. And maybe they will remember her as a pleasant reminder of childhood, the way she remembers special moments, two weeks apart, when on hot summer days she ran with anticipation and glee to the Good Humor man.

Ice cream truck driver Cheyenne Irsheid has been peddling ice-cold confections for 36 years. Here’s what she’s learned from the experience:

* Best day for sales: Sunday.

* Money she can make on a good day: $130.

* Number of miles she drives on an average day: 50.

* Number of flat tires she’s had since 1963: six.

* Number of accidents she’s been involved in: one (hit and run).

* Favorite music: “Turkey in the Straw.”

* Least favorite music: Theme song from “The Sting.”

* Favorite pastime on slow days: singing.

Iced Beauties

On a hot summer day, there’s nothing quite like a cool ice cream. The top five bestselling ice-cream truck items, according to Ahmad Pakzat, president of Tropical Ice Cream in Pomona:

1. Popsicle

2. Drumstick

3. Ice cream sandwich

4. World Wrestling Federation ice cream bar

5. Cartoon face ice cream bar