I proudly hold the untouchable record for attending major street rod events nationwide with one hand gripping an ice cream cone and the other clinging to a steering wheel. Alright, maybe someone else has hit more events than I have, but when it comes to feasting on ice cream from East to West (coast to coast) and North to South (Canada to Mexico, people!), I’m the reigning champion of cold, creamy goodness. Sure, it may not rival moon landing fame, but I take great pride in it.
I’ve discovered that indulging in ice cream is a serious responsibility, not a solo mission! You can’t just waltz into an ice cream parlor alone; you need a witness to validate your accomplishments. That’s right, you need a “designated driver” on ice cream runs—a prerequisite for any culinary adventure I embark upon. Luckily, I’ve had my trusty sidekicks: Rick Love from Vintage Air, John McLeod of Classic Instruments (now part of Holley’s crew), and the camera wizard Robert McGaffin, akaWheel Hub. They might argue about who takes the back seat for dessert adventures, but this is my story and they’ll have to deal with it.
Every epic tale has a beginning, sometimes a bit humbler than others, and my ice cream saga is no exception. It all started in good ol’ Shoney’s in Memphis, Tennessee. Sure, there was ice cream, but their strawberry pie tingled my taste buds. Shoney’s, originally a Big Boy franchise, became an independent gem later. Back in Southern California in the 1950s, Bob’s Big Boy was the hot spot for car enthusiasts with car hops on skates. When I hit my first NSRA Street Rod Nats in Memphis I discovered Shoney’s—a midwestern duplicate of what I cherished back home. They supplied the pies for the NSRA pie-eating contest, and while it wasn’t about quantity, it was about speed (how fast can you eat a strawberry pie?), duh, I was the quickest strawberry pie-eating hot rodder the world has ever had. The prize was a coupon for more strawberry pie. Just one slice? I battled through my disappointment and still made nightly pilgrimages for dessert.
My next nostalgic stop is Bridgeman’s Ice Cream Parlor in St. Paul, Minnesota, which has scooped ice cream for over 70 years. If you’ve never tried their La La Palooza Sundae, you haven’t lived! It comes with eight scoops—two each of vanilla, strawberry, chocolate chip, and butter brittle—topped with butterscotch, pineapple, strawberry sauce, nuts, bananas, whipped cream, and a cherry. On that fateful day at the NSRA Nats, I devastated the entire sundae in what I consider record time, parading around with my badge proclaiming: “I ate the Entire La La Palooza.” Tex Smith and Tom McMullen had to roll me back to the hotel to sleep that one off.
But the ice cream journey doesn’t stop there. I often find myself at Ehrler’s Ice Cream in Louisville, Kentucky, during the NSRA Nats, where Love, McLeod, and I devour multiple scoops on a pickup tailgate each year. If the local fire crew shows up for ice cream, you know you’re in the right place. It is here that we discuss and solve the world’s problems. When looking at it through a hand holding a double scoop cone of chocolate chip ice cream, life is much easier to understand. Someone must be the designated driver, and that’s where Love and McLeod earn their keep when my ice cream belly feels dangerously distended. It’s a tough job, but someone must do it!
Between Louisville and Bowling Green there’s always a must-stop at Graeter’s for their indulgent Flying Pig Tracks flavor, a blend of peanut butter cups and chocolate fudge swirls. This blend fulfills all food groups in one glorious 1/2-gallon—a single serving! McGaffin and I have devoted many afternoons to this delightful send-off, leaving with full bellies and smiles, always strategizing our next visit.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlour in Columbus, Ohio, was the place to be when the Goodguys Nationals rolled around. Free birthday sundaes? Stunning how many of us had the same birthday. You could grab multiple desserts if you played your cards right. For an honorable mention, I can’t ignore Dirty Frank’s Hot Dog Palace, famous for its hot dogs topped with chili—maybe more belly bombs than ice cream, but I promise, it’s legendary.
With my extensive background in epic culinary adventures, I realize I can’t possibly cover all my ice cream tales in one go. Don’t forget. I worked at Disneyland, and my favorite haunt was the Carnation Stand on Main Street, where the ice cream was as clean as the park. Ah, so many stories still to unfold. Lucky readers, you can expect more scoop-tastic destinations in the future. So, buckle up, and let’s keep this dessert hunt rolling.
-MR
