You were just about to take your BMW M4 out for a drive—a change of pace from your usual routine with the Mercedes-Benz G-Class. The BMW sat gleaming in the driveway, its engine humming softly in anticipation, headlights blinking with quiet excitement. It had been a while since it got to stretch its legs, and today felt like the perfect day for a spirited cruise.

You reached for the door handle, ready to hop in.

But before you could open it, a deep, unmistakably gruff voice echoed from behind you.

“Ahem.”

You turned to see the G-Class—tall, boxy, and unmistakably dominant—rolling forward from its spot in the garage. Its LED headlights narrowed slightly, and its grille seemed to frown.

“Really?” it said, voice robotic but laced with a thick German accent and a tone of mild offense. “You’re taking that one today?”

The BMW’s engine gave a hopeful little rev, trying to stay confident.

The G-Wagon rolled closer, its tires crunching the gravel with authority. “You already know,” it said, voice rising with smug certainty, “I’M the better German. So—chop chop—get in here.”

The BMW’s engine faltered. Its headlights dimmed slightly, and it let out a soft, disappointed hum. Without a word, it slowly reversed back into its parking spot, the sound of its retreating engine almost apologetic.

The G-Class gave a satisfied grunt, then opened its door for you with a smooth hydraulic hiss. “Let’s go. I’ll show you what real presence looks like on the road.”

You sighed, glancing back at the BMW, which now sat quietly in the corner, sulking just a little.

“Next time,” you whispered.

The BMW blinked once in response—just enough to let you know it heard.