[The following contains a great deal of anthropomorphization, a charge which I am hereby simultaneously acknowledging and dismissing.]

Once I was the primary driver of a '65 Ranchero that served for a time as the home of a jumping spider, a jolly little charmer I came to have heart-brimming affection for.  Loves, it's happened again!  A new spider superball now lives in my Tacoma, a marvelous blue-headed tugboatish little fellow who dances and bows for me whenever I slide into the driver's seat.  He appears from nowhere, we interact, I stroke him (fer reals) some, he crouches and hops, I praise his hilariously oversized glossy eyes, then as soon I look away to say put the key in the ignition he's gone when I look back.  Obviously he's magical and a fine protector.  No name yet, but the love's already there, rich enough to make me look like a madwoman as I sit in my driveway, surely appearing to passersby to be cooing to and caressing the windshield.

Looks a bit like this character here, except with a United Nations Blue head.  Perhaps the cosmos sent him to me as a peacekeeper, then.  And perhaps I'm overprone to symbolism.