Clare Aukofer sent the following letter (response sent from redirected to Web page).

You think *you've* got squat to do. I'm recovering from surgery and *can't* do squat, and I'm on drugs (legally, of course) so my invaded brain for some unknown reason composed this little ditty just for you guys. No doubt you'll do a great duet.

(To the tune of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina," with absolutely no apologies to Andrew Lloyd Webber, who probably has a Rolls anyway.)

Ahem.

Don't cry for my Karmann Ghiiiia.
The truth is it never left me.
It was my first car,
but there are still parts
in some old beetle, still on the highway.

I'll cry for my Karmann Ghiiiia--
the truth is I wish I'd kept it.
Wish I'd repaired it;
fixed up that bashed nose.
I could be rich now, but it's too late now.

Don't cry for my Karmann Ghiiiia;
it really was not a sports car.
Just a plain beetle, dressed up in high drag.
Yet still I loved it;
it was my Ghia.