My car broke yesterday.
This is not unusual for my car.

This time, however, my dad told me to take it to L&C Garage instead of our usual garage, which is closed on Wednesdays. I didn't know which place this was, so he described its location-- across from HoneyDew donuts (classy, I know)-- and I immediately recognized it as the place that had repeatedly cat-called my cross-country team and me as we ran by in high school.
I told dad this, and he said, "That's because they didn't know you were mine."

This annoyed me at the time, but I didn't realize why until later.
WHY. Why should the fact that I am the daughter of the man they respect elicit respectful treatment of me any more than the mere fact that I am a fellow human?

I wanted to go on and on about this, rant-style, but now that I've posed that question, I just have no more energy. There is so much that is broken in this world. More than just my car.