An Open Letter to My Dad Who’s Still Angry at Me for Letting the Car Battery Die in 2008

“He can remember this one mistake I made but can’t remember his own anniversary”

January 3, 2021

Dear Dad,

I just wanted to borrow the Honda Accord this weekend but you wouldn’t let me because I left the reading light on in the back of the Dodge Caravan in 2008. Looking back, it was a 45 minute drive to the restaurant we were going to because you got banned from the Bertucci’s around the corner. Why would you yell at the man managing the brick oven? It’s not a big deal they don’t serve the shrimp and white sauce pizza anymore.

Anyways, when I turned on the reading light, it was because I needed to finish Magic Treehouse Number 17: Tonight on the Titanic and share it in school the next day. The drive could have been 2 hours or 5 minutes at that point because Jack and Annie were on the Titanic moments before it started sinking. It’s too bad I never found out how they survived because once we arrived at Bertucci’s the next county over, we rushed into the restaurant in order to get a table 30 minutes before the kitchen closed.

As a result, I forgot to turn off the reading light and to this day, I think Jack and Annie died on the Titanic, and I get confused when I watch the movie.

SO, I’m sorry the battery died because I left the light on, but you need to let it go. The Dodge Caravan had 180K miles on it anyway. That battery was either going to die that night or the next time you got into a driveway argument with mom.

Please let me borrow the car this weekend. I promise I won’t let the battery die again. I promise to check the oil like you said and then I’ll call you when I don’t know what the symbol on the dash means. I promise to check the tire pressure so that my tires are over 14 psi. Please let me borrow the car.

Please.

My friend Donovan is moving this weekend, and I know the perfect way to fit a sectional into the Honda Accord (it involves rusty hedge trimmers and no police on I-95).

Sincerely,

Your 23 year-old son