Father still knows best. And it really sucks, doesn’t it?

Dad, you were right. About pretty much everything. And it sucks. After living on my own in an… Dad, you were right. About pretty much everything. And it sucks. After living on my own in an apartment for a year and a half, your way does kinda make sense.

Dad, I can’t seem to keep the gas tank above half in the winter. But every time I get in the car, your voice looms in my head. It’s a rumble from the heavens that strikes fear into my heart. Dads just have something about them that is good-naturedly infuriating. It drives me crazy.

“Always keep the gas tank above half in the winter.”

You never gave me a detailed explanation of why this was necessary, and I never asked. It’s like so many of the other things parents make us do — it seems completely ridiculous, but the compulsion to do it is still there.

Dad, I don’t seem to have the same zeal for scrubbing carpets that you do, but I do feel fury at the sight of a misplaced kitchen utensil. I never understood it, but I still do it. As I start to swear under my breath, I think of you. You’re right. It is better when every single thing in the house has a place, that it is always meticulously clean and that you take care of problems as soon as they arise. You’re right, Dad, OK? The simpler a room is, the less there is to clean.

There is a certain brand of paper towels that’s the best quality for the least money. You were right. And when you look at the date on the carton of milk, it lasts longer. If you soak a pot in cold water, it will come clean more quickly. Cordless phones are the devil; they really don’t stay charged. If you don’t slam the furniture around, it will last longer and stay nicer.

I think so many of the crazy little things about people are things they copy from their parents and don’t even know it. I’m angry when I think about the way my voice sometimes echoes of my mother’s, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Peoples’ entire ideas of logic come from their parents. Unfortunately, some people’s parents are illogical. I can’t think of another explanation for certain types of habitually crazy behavior: The way people fold their towels is because of their parents, and the way they arrange their cabinets, and the way they order their underwear. Can anyone get their parents’ voices out of their head?

“Pay yourself first. Save your money.”

Now that, Dad, that’s great advice. It’s just not really working out right now. I’m really looking forward to the job search as well, but today I’m just trying to fumble toward graduation.

“Of course you have to clean under it.”

Well, Dad, I do clean under my refrigerator, and my bed, and my couch, and my bookshelf, and my counters, and everything else that is basically unnecessary to clean under. I hunt dust because of you.

“Every 3,000 miles, get your oil changed. Has it been 3,000 miles yet?”

Dad, I think it’s been a little longer than that. I don’t want to talk about it.

Mothers’ voices are heard a little differently. Every so often I’ll be going through the bottom of a drawer at my apartment and find a tiny silver or pewter medallion of the Virgin Mary that my mother dropped among my belongings without my knowledge. I’ll clench my fist and snarl, but it just doesn’t do any good. It is possible that one day I’ll want to stealthily save my child’s soul. It’s infuriating.

I was right about one thing, Dad. I was held to unreasonably high standards. When I heard your voice saying the cost of tuition in my head, however, I studied a lot more than I otherwise would have. Your voice in my head is quite possibly the only reason I’m graduating college at all.

Dad, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I know that because I can still hear you shouting, “Break! Break!” from the passenger’s side of the car when I was learning to drive.

You were right about James Taylor and Willie Nelson. It’s great music. And unfortunately, sitting in the front of the classroom does make a difference. There is always somebody better and always somebody worse at a given task. Kindness, at the right time, can be enraging to the offending party. Junk should be kept at a one-drawer minimum.

It sucks, Dad. You were right about a lot of things. Now it’s time for me to graduate college and attempt to live on my own. I’ll still clean under things, Dad. And I’ll still feel angry about it. I still don’t really understand it.

Tell Rachel Chunko her father was right at rpc973@pitt.edu.