Me: C'mon, Jerry (name of my car). I'm sick. I have a fever. Car: No you're not, I can sense your temperature at 98.7°. Me: My stomach hurts. Car: You lied about having a fever, why should I believe you now? Me: Take me home now or I'll short your battery terminals. *Car screeches to halt, locks doors* Car: Threats against the property of U.S.S.A. will not be tolerated. The police are on their way. Have a nice day.