“Oh—nothing to see here! Heheh… just BOUGHT a FIREWORK for New Year’s…” The car says this confidently while cruising around with a glowing EXPLOSIVES crate stacked on its roof like it’s extra luggage. The paint is loud, the wheels are louder, and the fireworks up top are actively questioning their life choices. It’s dressed like it’s heading to a midnight meetup, but loaded like it’s about to accidentally start the countdown early. Every stoplight is a trust exercise. Every speed bump is a negotiation. It’s not racing the clock to midnight—it is the midnight event.