Dear xxxx,
Can you give me your phone number so I can give you a call sometime? I have a phone card with enough time on it. I also do not have your street address.
I was just thinking about that head-on collision you had with that tractor trailer in the Kern Valley. It's a good thing you're okay. Did you get cited for that? I remember when that school teacher hit us head-on when we were all going to play tennis in La Sierra. I don't remember if you were in the car. Cathy was driving. When I got out of the car after the crash (I thought it was going to blow up), I saw a gallon jug of wine, partially full, between the lady's legs on the front seat. She was obviously drunk, but got off scot-free. The highways are definitely not safe. What a convenient way to kill someone or commit suicide.
Dad said, when he had to investigate a motorcycle accident, that you had to scrape up the flesh of the victim from the pavement with a shovel. I hope you are driving a good, solid vehicle (that isn't a bitch for rolling over, like those late model Ford SUV's.)
I shouldn't bring all this up to you, since you're now Mom and apple pie. But wait until your kids are in high school, and be sure they know the dangers of the road.
That $20 you said you put in my account was not credited. Don't worry about it. I should have enough to eat, even though I sleep on the streets. I've been stabbed once, nearly beaten up 4 times (once in Mexico), and then there was the time a semi went out of his way to run me over from behind, when I was walking on the opposite side of the street. His truck mirror almost decapitated me, had it not been for a few inches.
The police no longer ask you if you are okay. They say, "Are you lost?"
Be sure you send me that info, please.
I'll be waiting for it.
Scratch that. I am sure you really are my sister who I am corresponding with.
Yours truly,
Frank
P. S. T, baby, tell you what I'm goin' to do. I am going to ask you to trust in God.
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