Just what California needs, more job-killing regulations.
When the ice cream truck came through our quiet suburban neighborhood, playing its song (which was more like a circus song back then), all of the neighborhood kids, including myself, first ran into our house to get a few coins for an ice cream bar or cone, and then ran out of the house as fast as we could to get to the ice cream truck before it drove on. I don’t understand why anyone would get so bent out of shape. The trucks didn’t stay that long in a neighborhood, and then they were gone for the day. Maybe it’s different now.