If you’ve lived here for any length of time exceeding a year, you’re aware that Oklahoma summers are hot, except in years like 2011 and 2012, in which the sheer inadequacy of the word “hot” proved to be every bit as painful as the scorching of the top of your head within 45 seconds of opening the door. (Note to Muslims: This is the way you sell the head scarf.) Complicate said heat with something seemingly just as hot along a different vector, and, well, you get this:
Every time I’ve ever eaten at a food truck, it’s been a typical Oklahoma burning hot day. This makes a lot of sense, because events like concerts, festivals, and anything that draws a large crowd of people outdoors occurs well, during the Oklahoma burning hot summer. It wasn’t until I, dripping with sweat, bit into a damn ahi tuna taco dressed with wasabi-mayo, handed to me by a thickly bearded man, surrounded by griddles and deep fryers, enclosed in a 4 ft x 8 ft vehicle, realized that there could be a problem.
Things have clearly changed from the days of the Roach Coach, the truck that occasionally visited us hungry soldiers on post; not only were the facilities far more hygienic than our disparaging name (alternative: “Maggot Wagon”) might imply, most of the foodlike products thence dispensed were approximately 23.5 percent preservatives and therefore would not undergo unseemly decomposition until actually digested.