In Soviet Russia... I always thought that the stories were nothing but jokes. Cheap laughs for sweaty, unoriginal interneteers. And so I had never thought that when I did visit Soviet Russia and went to my rented car, it would indeed drive me.
The black Sudan smiled at me and spoke in a murmur by lifting its hood; "finally. I've been waiting for days." Then it snatched the keys I were holding, stuck it in my mouth and jumped on my back.
It was strange at first, but I quickly got used to it. The car wasn't as heavy as people said it was and it was actually quite nice. It told me to turn by gently pulling at my ears and always sang along to the radio (which, by the way, only played Boney M.'s "Rasputin" on constant repeat). Along the way I saw mostly strange sights, feeling like quite the tourist. A short bulldog was taking its owner for a walk, and a new Kickstarted company was advertising its slogan; "Machine Programs You!"