DANGER!

Look at it.
All unassuming, and compact, and quietly shiny.
With no straight angles, sharp edges, or pointy threatening thingies.

Look at it.
With its claws and fangs surreptitiously retracted, its poison sack hidden away, its anger painstakingly but efficiently contained.

Waiting for the granny. Alluring her. Attracting her. Pulling her inside the carefully designed no-nonsense interior.
"Drive me, drive me, it is safe. You can drive me. I'm not a sports car. I'm safe. I'm small and maneuverable. Safe. Easy. Safe to drive. Easy to park. You don't even need to be a good driver. Or experienced. Or bother with the highway code. I'll drive you. I'm safe. And roundy. And practical. Harmless. Shiny little car. I'll indicate for you. I'll navigate for you. I'll reverse park for you. You're safe. You can take me for the weekly trip to Tesco. I'm safe. Driving will be easy. You won't even have to think about it. Trust me. I'll do it for you, I'm safe."

Look at it.
Quietly shiny.
Waiting for the granny.
Ready to turn her into a killer, with half a turn of a fateful key.

Next week: don't enter into a discussion with the Micra. Shoot first, ask questions later