Granted. They parachute into the ocean and are categorized as meteors. The kerbal space program classifies Earth as an Ultra-Eve planet. I wish for gps to work in every game.
You die from radiation. Congrats on not equipping that power armour. I send in literal strips of muscles to defend the hill. No life, just muscle strips. My hill.
I build giant curved radiation mirrors (out of unobtanium) and use them to vaporize General Rarity's head. My headless corpse with power armor on the hill.
Granted. Your inability to convey the intended meaning of that wish results in: Cars that you and your relatives own spontaneously crash into thin air whenever you're bored. I wish for the planet to be bombarded by car-sized invisible spheres.
See, if you do this trick with the fingers up close to the eyes, you can make them look like sausages! Waiter, there's a virtual reality headset in my soup!