I don't want to be dramatic, but me and my mate Auden wrote this ode last night:
[font="Calibri, 'sans-serif';font-size:11pt;"]Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
He has sold his VX, his modding is done.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning in the sky
Scribbling the message, oh why, oh why?
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was our Bas, our Southend, our Stortford and Epping West,
Our fire-fighter, he was our best.
Our noon, our midnight, our talk, our song;
We thought the sandals were for ever: We were wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and quit your job.
For nothing can ever replace our Rob.[/font]
[font="Calibri, 'sans-serif';font-size:11pt;"]Good bye, Blue leader.
[/font]
That is amusing, impressive and creepy all at the same time 
), but for now it's time to bow ouy of VX ownership and maybe in the future I will be back in a little plastic car once again. 
