Their ears take in the cheery music. Their eyes fix on the flashy lettering and picture of the friendly man with two thumbs up as it whizzes by. They're convinced of one thing -- there's ice cream in there --and they begin to haul.

But when they catch up, sometimes at the end of a cul-de-sac, they realize just how wrong they are.

There are no snow cones. No Astro Pops. Not a measly Fudgsicle.

Instead, they get a lesson in democracy from a guy in a tie.

And then they show their disappointment, Lassiter says. "They shake their little fists at me."

As one of seven people running for three open seats on the Apex Town Council, Lassiter, 22, needed some way to stand out.

But the Republican is finding that standing out in western Wake County, where towns' appearance rules seem to trump the Constitution, can be quite the hassle.

"I'm just a simple man in a Chevy van," he says.

For a while, it wasn't just the kids who were chasing Lassiter. The town was after him, too.

It all started in July, when Lassiter transformed his father's 1985 Chevrolet conversion van into the ultimate campaigning machine. He paid $800 to wrap both sides with a decal featuring a campaign Web site and his grinning mug. He installed an Animal House Electric Horn, a car amplification system that blares 50 pre-loaded children's songs. It also barks like a dog and ribbits like a frog.

Before long, he was waving out the window, stopping for curbside hand shakes and kissing babies.

The town quickly took notice. An Apex zoning official told Lassiter that parking his van on public streets would violate the town's sign ordinance, which requires company vehicles to be kept on private property. The rule prevents businesses from using the streets as free billboard space. "So many municipalities have cracked down on billboards," said Bruce Radford, Apex's town manager. "... People see them as a distraction."

That defeated Lassiter's plan of eliciting impromptu meet-and-greets on the streets of Apex. He tried the door-to-door thing. But it wasn't as effective as the van. "What a difference," he says. "You can really reach hundreds of people in a couple of hours."

So Lassiter, a teacher at Middle Creek High School, fought back. He argued that campaign signs are a matter of free speech, and that they shouldn't fall under the same rules as business signs.

The town eventually agreed. And Lassiter has since put more than 5,000 miles on the van.

The tangle has given his campaign renewed purpose.

After some reflection, and a few talks with frustrated business owners, he realized the double standard.

"What really got me was that I was allowed to do it but other business owners, whose vans are more important than a silly council race, can't," Lassiter said.

If elected Nov. 3, Lassiter pledged that he'll revisit those sign rules.

Luckily for him, the kids can't vote.