I always feel a little lost during the first few weeks back on campus after break. There’s that thing called homework that I’d tried to forget about and the strange transformation in my schedule that fills up all my free time with poorly timed blocks of class. But while all this is par for the course, my usual adjustment period was recently complicated by the mysterious white truck lurking on Tufts grounds.

I first noticed this unmarked white vehicle parked on Packard while living off campus over break. As I walked passed it, I would try to determine it’s purpose, but it would always stare silently back at me, taunting me in its unwillingness to reveal its secrets. Thoughts and questions about this white leviathan haunted my dreams for days, but as the semester began to approach, the elusive beast faded from my mind. Would it were so easy.

On the first Monday of classes, I left wind ensemble rehearsal with a spring in my step. Thrilled to be making music once more, I felt as if the world were at my fingertips and was more than ready to tackle the three hour night class looming before me. And then I saw it. The white truck was waiting for me across from Anderson as if it knew I would have to pass by on my way to class. It’s side was open and two men were operating from within, a line of students forming along the back. What kind of seedy business were they up to? I had to know.

I approached at a brisk walk, not wanting the wily white truck to know I was onto it. I gazed within to see beautiful columns of meat being carved into what I could only assume were delicious sandwiches of some sort. I resisted temptation and walked on. This scenario would repeat itself again on Wednesday and once more I chose not to stop despite the call of the white food truck. My curiosity was too strong, however, so I ventured back during our ten minute break, only to find it silently sitting in the dark once more, waiting patiently for our paths to cross some point in the future.

For weeks this white truck has piqued my curiosity and recently tempted my taste buds, and still I’ve yet to try it. Always in a rush to class, I’ve passed it, looking longingly at the meats taunting me from behind the open window. How is it that I’ve been too busy to stop and try something I so desperately want?

Here I am, entering my last semester at Tufts and I’m too worried about getting to class a few minutes early to stop and treat my tastebuds to a new experience. This wasn’t originally supposed to be existential or particularly meaningful, I was just asked to throw something together as filler for the opinions section and the food truck was suggested as a possible topic. I knew that my personal history with the food truck could possibly be a starting point, but now that I’ve double checked the definition of existentialism with Wikipedia, it seems I ended up writing an existential piece anyway.

So where does that leave us? While the mystery of the mysterious white truck has been nearly brought to a close (I plan to visit it for lunch tomorrow), there are still many more journeys out there to be taken and mysterious white trucks to investigate. Four years goes by incredibly fast and with May growing closer every day, that five minute early arrival to class seems less and less important, especially when compared to a warm, delicious gyro full of freshly carved meat from the existential food truck.