What if your car had feelings?

I don’t want to alarm you, but your car hates you.

Think about it.

The late oil changes. The fast turns without warning. The way you slam the brakes. Your car is tired. It’s holding on, but deep down, it wants to file a restraining order.

If cars could talk, they would not say thank you for driving me today. They would say, “Bro, may pinagdadaanan ka ba?”

Ever tried starting your car and — nothing? No sound, no engine, just pure betrayal. You could even say evil. That’s not a dead battery — that’s your car ignoring you. You left it out in the rain or under the scorching heat directly from the sun for days. No shades. No mercy.

And when the engine starts, that weird rattling noise is your car sighing in disbelief. It knows. You’re only paying attention because it’s acting up.

Then there’s the matter of trust. Your car has trust issues with your braking habits. Brakes are for slowing down, not emotional outbursts. Every time you slam them, your car is internally screaming, “Bro. Why? Itigil mo yan.” It wonders why you always feel like testing Newton’s law of physics. Your car is convinced you just enjoy seeing cars behind you suffer.

Speaking of betrayal, there’s the gas tank issue. Your car knows when it’s running low on fuel. What it doesn’t understand is why you refuse to fill it up until the last possible second. You could have done it at half a tank or one-fourth. But you had to push it. And now you’re panicking. Now it’s an emergency. Now you’re talking to your car, begging it to make it to the next gas station. It has been warning you while you sit there pretending you can outsmart the empty gas light.

Your car was not designed to be a garbage truck, but here you are, turning it into a moving trash can. Old coffee cups, candy wrappers, fast food receipts from last year — your car is embarrassed. It used to have pride. Now it’s a rolling basurahan. What if your crush rides with you? Do you think your car wants to look like this? That french fry under the seat has been here since February 2024. It has seen things. It has lived through gas price hikes, typhoons and earthquakes.

You are mistaken if you think that your car doesn’t notice the abuse. It has felt every pothole. Every speed bump you didn’t slow down for. Every curb you accidentally hit and then pretended didn’t happen. Your tires feel everything. And at this point, they think you’re doing it on purpose. So we’re just hitting every hole on the road today? Love that for me. I don’t need air or anything. I enjoy suffering. If your tires could roll away in protest, they would.

Don’t assume your car doesn’t get revenge. Ever notice how it refuses to lock when you’re in a rush? Or how the aircon only works after you’ve sweated through your shirt? That’s not bad luck. That’s revenge. The wipers suddenly acting up? That’s payback. It knows what it’s doing. The check engine light coming on right before your road trip — that’s message received. Your car remembers everything.

Maybe it’s time to apologize. Your car doesn’t want gifts or decals overkill — just basic respect. Get an oil change before it starts sounding like a broken blender. Fill up the tank before the last drop. Slow down for potholes and speed bumps. Clean the inside with a vacuum. That missing sock under the seat? It’s part of the car now. Be like Elsa. Let it go.

Your car is a long-suffering friend. And it’s tired of your nonsense.

When you’re behind the wheel, maybe say something nice. Maybe even pat the dashboard.

Because if your car could talk, it would tell you one thing:

“Hindi kita dasurv.”