When I was in high school, musical car horns were popular. My mother’s deluxe model played the first line of 48 different songs. But when it was extremely cold, the horn sometimes developed a short and played on its own. I urged Mom to take it out of our car, but she refused to get rid of it.

That is, until the cold winter afternoon that Mom and Dad attended a graveside funeral service for an elderly aunt. As they were pulling out of the cemetery, the horn blared the first stanza of “We’re in the Money.” I never heard the horn again.

Rosida Porter (South Solon, Ohio), Reader’s Digest