My Father is Right, Yet Again.

For as long as I can remember, my dad and I have lived by one of two universal truths: either I’m right, or... I’m right.

At least, that’s how I like to see it.

But somehow—somehow—Appa always ends up being the one who's actually right.

"Get into finance," he said.
"Become an entrepreneur," he said.
"Don’t date that boy," he said. "He’ll distract you from school and steer you away from every great thing you’re meant to become."

And, of course, he was right about all of it.

But his latest I told you so victory? Oh, this one takes the cake.

"I told you this would happen to the car."

Let me take you back to winter break.

The Begging Phase: How I Convinced My Parents to Let Me Have the Beemer

I wanted a car. Needed one. Begged for one.

"Give me the Beemer," I pleaded. "It’s not like I’m a bad driver! I used to drive it alllll the time in high school."

Eventually, my parents caved. But not before Appa gave me one final warning:

"The minute something happens, I’m blaming the car."

I waved him off. What could possibly go wrong?

Fast forward to the week I’m supposed to head back to Gainesville, and the car—who, by the way, I have now named Speedy—is undergoing thousands of dollars' worth of repairs. All so I can have a safe car to take to campus.

Finally, she’s ready. Speedy, in all her chipped-red-paint, slightly-falling-apart-on-the-inside glory, is looking shiny and new on the outside. I hook up an aux cable (because, fun fact, I suffered through the radio all of high school for NO reason) and drive off to pick up Keerthana. Freedom. Independence. Life is good.

For about two days.

The Incident: Part 1—The Window That Should Have Stayed Shut

On a beautiful, peaceful day of running errands, I decide it’s time to get my car washed. Feeling accomplished, I start driving back, enjoying my newfound I-can-go-anywhere-whenever-I-want freedom.

Then Reva calls.

Mid-conversation, I instinctively roll up my driver’s window.

What I don’t realize is that my fingers have also—very accidentally—rolled down the window behind me.

If you’re wondering where things go terribly wrong, this is the moment.

What was the ONE THING Appa told me before I left?

"Do NOT roll down any windows except the driver’s."

Guess what just happened?

Now, my back window refuses to go back up. Amazing. I have no choice but to leave Speedy outside in the dirt lot next to my apartment, terrified someone’s going to break in and either steal her or use her for… well, let’s just say not legal activities.

So, in true desperate college student fashion, I cover it with duct tape and a plastic bag and pray.

The next morning, I drag myself to the dealership and get the issue resolved. Problem solved, right?

Oh, how naive of me.

The Incident: Part 2—When Your Car Decides It’s Done with You

Yesterday, in yet another moment of questionable decision-making, I park my car on the fourth floor of the garage and leave my hazards on. Why? Because my groceries were too heavy to carry all the way up to my apartment.

Then I forget about it.

By the time I rush back, realizing I left my car there for way too long, it’s already too late. The battery is dead.

No matter how many times I try, Speedy refuses to start. She has given up on me.

I panic. Call every friend I can think of, begging to borrow jumper cables.

Mahi, my absolute savior, comes to my rescue, bringing her friend Akib—because, let’s be honest, we both had zero clue what to do. Akib spends three hours trying everything to bring Speedy back to life. We get just enough power to put her in neutral and roll her out of the garage, but that’s it.

At first, I’m terrified. Rolling down the garage at full speed, pulling the handbrake just to stop? Not exactly my idea of fun.

But then, something amazing happens. Strangers—random people who saw us struggling—jump in to help.

With Akib and our new friends, we push Speedy into the dirt lot, just so I don’t get a boot from Superior Towing (because, honestly, that would’ve just been insult to injury at this point).

I’d love to say this is where the nightmare ends. But, of course, I still had to call Appa and cause him even more stress.

The Final Blow: Appa’s I Told You So

So, on this lovely Valentine’s Day, while he’s just trying to enjoy his life, I text him to add me to the AAA membership.

His response?

"We just spent a ton of money on that car for no reason."
"We could have leased a new car for the amount of money we’ve spent on it."
"Equivalent to a whole semester of your tuition!!!"

And finally—the text I knew was coming:

"It’s why I didn’t want that car leaving the house."

So here we are, once again.

Appa was right.

He’s always right.

And I? I am simply UGH.

So, What Have We Learned?

If there’s one undeniable truth in this world, it’s that Appa will always be right, and I will always find new and creative ways to prove it.

I could say I’ve learned my lesson—that I’ll be more careful, that I’ll listen to him next time, that I’ll never beg for another car again. But let’s be honest… we both know that’s a lie.

Give it a few months, and I’ll probably be calling him about another crisis. He’ll sigh, tell me this is exactly why he warned me in the first place, and I’ll groan dramatically, swearing this time I’ll listen.

(And then, inevitably, I won’t.)

But maybe that’s just how it goes. I stumble, make mistakes, and learn the hard way, while he watches from the sidelines, shaking his head, waiting for the moment when he can hit me with another, I told you so.

It’s our thing.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you Appa, Happy Valentines Day ❤️