According to this interesting blog from MSNBC, quite a few people are feeling grief at turning in their “clunker” for demolition.
I have two old cars - a 94 Saturn, the first car I ever bought new, and still runs great with only 85,000 miles on it. The other is a 97 Grand Marquis that I inherited from my parents when they died. It only has 40,000 miles on it. Both have lots of personal history and I would feel sort of sad to see them go…I know that sounds strange, but so much has happened in, near and with those cars that I probably have an unnatural attachment to them. BTW, I don’t intend to trade them in as they still run well and as you have probably figured out, I don’t drive all that much.
I have never named either car, although I remember my mother naming their first car The Blue Goose, and mom shedding a few tears when they traded it in…she remembered taking us kids home from the hospital after we got born and lots of other happy memories with that car.
So - how emotionally attached are you to your car(s) - now, or in the past?
Sure - I know people who call their ex-spouses by that exact same name.
Of course, this wasn’t the warm and fuzzy response I was expecting, but hey - I guess you have created a personal relationship with your car, albeit one that probably doesn’t bode well for long term commitment.
The Pimp Mobile (Convertible '76 Cadillac ElDorado). Drove it in high school, and it is fondly remembered by friends from there.
The Pink Truck ('87 Nissan Pathfinder whose cheap red paint faded to a light color). Drove it into the ground and donated the shell. I miss it, in the sense of the memories and times that it represents. Friends from college were shocked how long I was able to nurse it along.
Now:
The Beast: '67 Mustang Convertible.
Granny: Off white Lincoln Continental.
Beluga: White Toyota Sequoia
I will miss each of them in the same way. We drive cards for as long as financially possible, so each car represents a decade or so of our life.
None. I love having a car. I enjoy driving my car. My car is generally reliable, powerful enough and comfortable. My car takes premium gas which I fucking hate ;).
But nope, I have never anthropomorphized any of my vehicles. Or any inanimate object. Wonder if that makes me a little weird.
A car is what gets me to the grocery store, and not much else. My first car, I’ll admit, was a little different. I think every teenager is in love with her first set of wheels, no matter how shitty they may be. May be something about the newfound freedom, or having the money saved up from shitty jobs finally getting somewhere, or maybe the first time for any major life experience is exciting. I don’t know. In any case, I named her Sasha.
I’ve named all my cars. I probabaly spend more time (on a monthly or annual basis) in my car than with most of my friends, so it seems natural to give it a name.
My current car, I bought new in 1994. If I sold it, I might say goodbye and give it a little pat on the hood, but I doubt I’d shed a tear.
Got lots of cars, but only really attached to one. My dad bought it new, and later gave it to me. Nice little Italian convertable. Generally, I never get rid of cars anyway. Keep em forever.
I never name them, but I get very attached to them, despite the fast that I cycle through cars fairly quickly. We had a hail storm here recently, and four of them experienced pretty significant damage. I was very, very upset.
I was fiercely protective and emotional about my first vehicle which is (it is still around) a small, blue Mazda pickup truck. A lot of people didn’t understand but I bought it myself new when I was 16 and I only made $3.35 an hour. Any time anyone threatened it in any way, they were also disrespecting me because I was spending a whole lot of blood, sweat, and tears time to afford it.
My second car was a BMW 3-series and I was really attached to it as well. I drove it around for hours for the hell of it just for fun a few days a week. To relax, I would just go outside and polish it for a while even though it was always immaculate.
My current vehicle is an SUV. I am not attached to it much. I just got it because I have kids but also need to haul stuff frequently.
Rocinante, my first and current car. A '94ish Acura Legend, with a good engine but some cosmetic issues. Bonus points for recognizing the name without Googling.
I name my cars. My previous car was named Krystall and the one before that was Anabelle. I was a lot more attached to the fun little roadster (Anabelle), than I was to the boring and practical SUV.
If all goes well, I’ll be buying another car tomorrow. Got to start thinking of names.
Funny enough, I never named my motorcycle. I should do that, too.
Not really, in that I don’t name my cars, anthropomorphize them, or anything like that. But I did have a little pang when our old station wagon got loaded onto the wrecker for the last time, to be hauled off to the junk heap. I can see where people who don’t otherwise think of themselves as being emotionally attached to their cars might have some trouble seeing their engines destroyed, never to run again.
Back in 1970, my father bought a real broken down clunker. There was no upholstery, the engine block was cracked, all the tires were flat, non-existent paint job, etc. We spent the next 3 years bringing it back to cherry condition. When I was old enough (1972), I took my driving exam in that car. I drove it the whole time I was in high school. It was a real chick magnet. Oh, the times I’ve had in that back seat.
I just haven’t bonded enough with my current car, a 2006 PT Cruiser, for it to merit getting a name. This one is just a car, not a pal. In days of old, however, I had…
• Herpes the Lust Bug, a tricked out, bright blue '69 VW Beetle who took me from Texas, to Colorado, to California, and back to Texas before I betrayed his years of noble service by trading him for a motorcycle.
• One-Eyed Dick, a black 2002 New Beetle that had a persistant short in the right front headlight that no mechanic could seem to fix for longer than a couple of weeks.
• The mighty Scrap Iron, a two-tone turquoise and white '74 Ford LTD that was my first car. It belched smoke, got about 6 miles per gallon, and broke down constantly; but it could carry 7-8 friends, several cases of beer and had enough trunk space to move a Japanese family in. With Barry White playing on the 8-track, Scrap Iron served as a bedroom on wheels for a 17-year-old Jettboy’s introduction to the ritual of love.
My last car didn’t have a name, but I felt terrible when I totaled it, back in 2003. Like I had accidentally killed a pet or something. I felt like a complete jerk for doing that to my baby.
