Dearest Son (licensed dirt/road bike),
Mother and I wanted to let you know that that wheelie you felt the need to perform alongside a gentleman’s car from one traffic light until he pulled off just before the next (maybe a quarter mile or so) where he stopped for a to-go from Popeye’s for his dinner?
It was quite impressive, as juvenile feats of stupidity go, especially as the kids may like just that sort of thing these days. We don’t know, being old an out of touch of course as you always remind us. Ahhhh, youth. But, at least, keep wearing that helmet son. We know it may soon come in handy though we pray not. We love you after all.
The gang at Popeye’s, when the gentleman relayed this quick story, while ordering his 5 piece, mild not spicy, spicy hasn’t sat well lately, all agreed that your worried manhood shouldn’t hinder you from future displays of the same such stupidity. They may even offer an extra piece of chicken for the laugh. But again though, the helmet, please, always the helmet. We’re also SOOO relieved that you didn’t fall after that tire hung in the air for such a long stretch. But at least you can sleep well knowing that that gentleman’s car was small. It might not have been that much of a bump…bump…anyway, if things had gone awry.
Don’t forget to continue to send us postcards from stupid by the way. Your mother and I treasure them. And your handwriting has gotten so much better.
Ps. Please, in the future, try to impress someone other than an another gentleman in an unimpressive car. Your mother, and I, would love grandchildren.
Pss. I think I’ve got the gout.