A conversation with my car, on its way to slaughter

The following was written for an event hosted by Edmund Zagorin called “Make It Look Like An Accident.” You bring a piece of writing, and then hand it to someone else to edit it however they please, and then they read it aloud. However, I misunderstood and thought “make it look like an accident” was the writing prompt.

This is the original, pre-edited piece I brought to the event — derived from entirely true events, except for the main character, whose sentience is wholly and utterly made up.

“It’s been a good run, Franco,” I whispered as I patted the steering wheel for one last journey together and started the ignition.

“Wuv…wuvwuvwuvwuvwuvwuv,” purred my red 2009 Nissan Altima Hybrid. The sound of Franco starting up always reminded me of the introduction to Black Mirror, and I like to think that it was his way of saying that he too enjoyed dystopian science fiction. “I understand. You did your best to make this work.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tried to reassure, but we both knew I was simply being polite. We took off down I-280, a road we had traveled together dozens of times, in a sad silence that belied the fact that we both knew it would be our last journey together.

After a few minutes, Franco broke the silence. “But…just to be fair, you didn’t…