Michael Knight jumped into the driver’s seat of the sleek, black Pontiac Trans Am, narrowly avoiding a rain of arrows. The door slammed shut of it’s own volition and the missiles deflected from the car’s armored body.

“Step on it, KITT ,” Michael said to the car, “those crazies in shining armor are going to turn us into swiss cheese!”

The vehicle roared to life and sped away, leaving the attacking knights, literally, in the dust.

“Michael,” the car said in a voice that sounded strangely like that of Principal Feeny from Boy Meets World, “we must tread carefully. We have been transported back to the time of King Arthur and his Knights by my evil prototype, KARR . If we do not stop KARR soon, there is no telling what damage he will do to the time-stream!”

“Thanks for the exposition, pal, but I know what’s at stake,” Michael slurred.

“My word! Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” Michael responded, attempting to eat a cheeseburger off of the floor without using his hands.

“Well, this is certainly awkward,” KITT said.