My car is possessed. But not in a Christine or Maximum Overdrive sort of way.
I got drunk a few months ago and tried to drive home. I passed out behind the wheel, but instead of crashing, the Mini pulled itself over and woke me up by yelling at me through the stereo. It really read me the riot act about drunk driving.
I know, you’re thinking I imagined it. But I quit drinking that night and the car still talks to me. We’re friends now. It thinks I need to meet a nice man. Just not in a bar.