The Mosquito Truck
	Oh man! We were so excited! We could here the mosquito truck slowly making its way down Ellicott Street with its yellow light flashing and the thick, white cloud of fog behind it. It only happened three or four times during the summer,every year, and always right after dark. A small gang of bicycle-riding boys would follow it for blocks. New Orleans, Ellicott, Caracas, and Wilder were our streets. The fog was so thick that you couldn't see two ft. in front of you. The dense fog poured out of a six in. diameter pipe at the back of the truck. We'd mostly stay about eight or ten ft. from that opening. A lot of times we'd ride in and out of the cloud, being visible and then not. It was the greatest fun. The smell of the fog was so strong with kerosene or D.D.T., or whatever it was, that it was hard to breathe. We had no idea what it was but we didn't care. Our skin, hair, face, and clothes would be oily and kept the fog smell until we bathed. Our clothes had to be washed and hung on the line to dry and air out. The driver of the truck knew we were following him but he seemed to really enjoy being the Pied Piper. I wonder if he was waiting to see if we'd ever run into each other, riding in and out of the thick cloud. He just drove slow enough for us to follow, with the yellow light flashing on the roof of the truck. I'm surprised that none of our parents were concerned about us following the truck. Different times, I guess. It didn't seem to have any ill effects on me. I can still do things that most of my childhood friends can't do. Because they're no longer with us. Not because of the mosquito truck. It's because in the south, one of the most common last things that men say is, "Hey y'all, watch this!" Lash Out Loud