My name is Ian Blackwater and I'm a writer. I offer my apologies and I accept your commiserations. Some years ago I wrote a novel called Veedubs and Velociraptors: you could describe it as a dystopian satire, I suppose, if that was the way you were inclined to describe things.
Eventually these twenty or so Beetle owners and their cars emerged from the underground car park and drove out into a depopulated but largely undamaged London where they now had the complete run of the place. They got in their cars and screamed around an empty and unregulated London, doing doughnuts and handbrake turns outside the Houses of Parliament, drag racing along the Strand, pulling wheelies on the grass of Regent's Park, playing chicken on the Westway flyover.
Substantial sections of my novel consisted of our heroes careening around London in their Beetles, trying desperately to escape from bands of marauding velociraptors, and occasionally mounting equally desperate, and largely useless, counter attacks. This might have gone on forever - certainly some of the book's reviewers said it went on far too long in my narrative - but eventually a leader emerged from among the Volkswagen folk.
The Beetle, as many people know, was the brainchild of Adolf Hitler. Before it was the People's Car it was the KdF-Wagen, KdF standing for Kraft durch Freude, "strength through joy," which was the name of a Nazi-based health and leisure movement in pre Second World War Germany. The car played a full part in the Nazi fantasy, not least because it could be, and in due course was, easily adapted to military use.
And so, in Volkswagens and Velociraptors the emerging hero, a man called Troy, gradually turns into a little Hitler. He plans, he marshals his troops, he gets them to wear cool uniforms, does some small scale Nuremberg style displays of strength, and after many an adventure he comes up with a way to destroy the velociraptors. He succeeds. The velociraptors lose and are killed. However, when the battles are over Troy is still very much in control, talking about expanding his powers by way of a Reich that will last for a thousand years, and as it happens, the other Beetle owners are right behind him. The destruction of one race of monsters has created another.
Sales of the book were "modest," but in some quarters it was regularly described as a "cult novel," not that I can imagine any writer worth his salt being completely happy that his work was at the center of a cult.
In the interviews I did to publicize the novel I spent a lot of time saying this wasn't really a science fiction story, and that it wasn't even really a story about Volkswagens and velociraptors, any more than Moby Dick was really a story about an aquatic mammal. I said the Volkswagen Beetle was a symbol, and then interviewers would ask, "What's it a symbol of?" And I'd say, "Well, what do you have that needs symbolizing?" And then I was accused of being a clever dick.