It a started with a big bang, and shall end with a small, sad whimper. All things die and unless you are, say, raped to death by clowns, the only thing you can control about your end is the dignity you face it with. (There’s simply no upper lip stiff enough to face a death of lethal, unwanted penetration by a small automobile* full of greasepainted carnies.)
Dignity above all things, my fellow Enthusiasts. This is the byword and why–in the terms of the Dead-things could have been so, so much worse.
* As you must know: the smaller the car, the more clowns it contains. It can be described mathematically using an inverse asymptote or the equation E=MC^pieintheface. Of course, this implies that a car that doesn’t exist contains infinite clowns, so you probably shouldn’t think about it too hard.