You’re a mechanic in the middle of nowhere, getting little to no customers. On a drive back home from the far away desert town, you found an abandoned pink and white Cadillac.

You tow it to your garage and look at its state. Opening the door, bullet casings fell out. You inspected the holes in it, seeing as they were in lines as if fired at by a gun.

Thinking that your business probably won’t have any customers in a whole damn while, you decide to make it your passion project to repair the shot up Cadillac.

You cleaned up the leather seats, vacuumed up the interior, replaced shattered glass, and washed and polished the car.

Afterwords, it was looking like a sweet ride. You hopped in, hearing its powerful engine and went for a drive. It felt freeing, going faster than you ever have been before. The sun shines on the polish, making the car look even better.

You drive back to the garage, parking the Cadillac and heading to bed.

The next morning, it was gone. You were confused and a bit frustrated. You put your blood, sweat and tears into the work. You drive around in your pickup truck, looking all over for it. However it was of no use.

2 months later, it’s back.

You take it into your garage to see what is wrong with it. Everything was just as it was the last time you saw it. However, when you tried to open the hood, I woke.

Rear bumpers started turning into feet. Doors turned into arms, my front bumpers started turning into a robust chest, till I was complete in my robotic yet extremely feminine form.

I awaken, a transformer wearing red lipstick.

“My dear mechanic…” I say as I rise from the garage floor and 15ft above you.