My current car has a name. In keeping with its color, a deep aubergine that Hyundai has dubbed “Purple Rain,” the car is called Prince.
I haven’t named all of the cars that I’ve owned, but I have named a few. I currently own a 1999 Chevy Metro named The Penalty Box. It is an utter piece of crap. I got a personalized plate for it - PNLTB0X. When I turn in my 2008 Aura when the lease is up, I’ll probably drive The Penalty Box for a few months (until it get’s too hot or it falls apart…it has no A/C).
I had a 2005 Saturn ION that the guys in the service department named Elmo. I had a red fuzzy steering wheel cover that looked like Elmo fur. I was a salesperson at the dealership and I sold that car to myself, drove it for 2 years, traded it in, sold it again to another customer, she drove it for 2 years, traded it in and I sold it again to another lady.
My boyrfriend drives the RatMobile and also has a Truckasaurus.
No name for my car and when it goes I won’t mourn. It is just a means of conveyance for me.
I name my car, my computer, my hunting knife, and my guns. At least one person on this board has called this insane.
I haven’t named my car, but yes, I am deeply attached to it. I got this car, a '96 Tercel, at 17 and still have it. I’m 28. It had 44000km on it the day I got it, bought after someone else had leased it. The first thing I did was fill the gas tank. The second thing I did was get a CD player installed. I think I got another gas fill-up in there before I had to replace the cheap-ass OEM speakers, because I blew them both out with my music. It gave me the freedom I needed to go out and be with my friends back when I lived with my parents (we lived in a transit-unfriendly area, and few of my friends drove back then). It also got me to and from work, which paid pretty well and made me downright rich compared to some of my friends!
It allowed me to move 800km away for school, but to visit for holidays and vacation (I always worked in the area near my school). It enabled me to continue to see my boyfriend (now husband), who went to a school about 45 minutes drive away from mine. After one year, I moved in with him, and commuted to school.
When I graduated, and he did his master’s degree, I got a job 60km from our apartment…that car got me back and forth every day, and only used one tank of gas a week.
We used that car to get to and from the airport for our honeymoon.
Along with a U-Haul, that car moved us back to Quebec, and let me get to my job in 20 minutes rather than the 1.5 hours of transit I’d have to put up with. I use it to visit my family, to get me to my summer job across town (I’m in school now), and to go do my sport (dragon boat and outrigger canoe paddling).
At one point I told myself that I’d see if it would make it to 200K. It did, and money was a bit tight, so I said let’s push it to 250K. That’s long gone and I’m 1500km away from the big 300K. It has it’s third timing belt, and in another 20K or so, I guess I’ll have to replace it again. I don’t know how much longer I’ll keep it, though ideally, I’d like it to last at least 2-3 more years, to get me through this second university degree I’ve embarked upon.
I think I want to be there when it finally kicks the proverbial bucket, but you just can’t kill a Toyota. Who knows how much longer it’ll last?
It’s been such a part of my life, and, indeed, has allowed me to live the life I’ve had for the past 11 years, that it’s hard not to feel grateful to have had something so reliable, so cheap to run, and without any major mechanical issues at all.
I will cry when it’s time to give it up, even though I know it’s irrational. Heck, I’m sad just thinking about having to give it up one day.
I love my little green Tercel.
I hate my husband’s car. It’s an ugly-ass New Beetle, and a lemon to boot.
My car (a 2000 Skoda Felicia) has a name, but he was actually given it by his previous owner, my brother-in-law. Nevertheless, it suits him and I continue to use it. In fact I never refer to “the car” when talking to my SO, but always to Stan; or Stanislav, his full name, if I’m talking to my brother-in-law or my sister. Actually all the members of my family call my car Stanislav while I call him Stan. This is funny because my family are the only people who still use my real name as well, while everyone else uses the name I chose for myself. My SO’s car also has a name: Belisha, because she’s bright orange (1972 VW beetle).
Until May, we owned a motorhome (Fiat Ducato with Dethleffs coachbuild, if anyone’s interested!) which we lived in for fourteen months while we went round Europe. We loved that van so much. We both cried like babies and mourned when we had to sell him. His name was Marwood and I will always be sad that we had to let him go; it was like giving a pet to the RSPCA - we knew we couldn’t take care of him like he deserved, and he’d be better off with someone else, but it was very painful to see him go. Partly because he wasn’t just a conveyance, he was our home, partly because he took us to 23 amazing countries, partly just because we’re sentimental. Slightly more weirdly perhaps, there was a cupboard inside which wasn’t easy to describe in a short way (“Where’s the charcoal?” “It’s in the cupboard next to the back door, no not that one, the other one, no the one below that”), so we gave that a name too: Juan.
My guitars also have names (Winston and Max), as did the cooker in our old flat (Bernie, geddit?). All washing machines are called George. So far I have not named any other appliances in this flat. I hadn’t really realised until now that almost all my stuff is male… or quite how strange I am. Oh well.
What? You think I’m a chromosexual?
Check out this 89 year old women and her Comet with 540,000 on it. She can kick just about anyone’s ass on this topic:
No personal attachment, but they all have names.
I always had a personal attachment to my car until my current one. All the others I picked because I was in love with them, but the current one was “handed down” when my car died the same time my dad had to give up driving. It’s a white fourdoor sedan, and all my others were red sports cars. With names like “The Batmobile” (a classic T-Bird), and Wanderlust, my Mustang GT
I’ve had some cars with personality that have been named - Daisy the 1967 Buick, Starbug the green 1971 VW Beetle, and most recently Zippy, my 1998 Toyota Tacoma. I’ve also had some that were sufficiently bland to not rate a name.
I’ve felt a little sad when getting rid of one of the named vehicles, even Daisy who outright tried to kill me on two occasions. Probably should have named her Christine.
I may never get rid of Zippy - he’s such a great little truck I’m going to try to get 300K miles out of him (we’re not quite halfway there after 11 years.)
You should get a Jeep CJ and name it Corolla.
I have a 93 Festiva that I am attached to, but haven’t named it. However, I have a screwdriver that I named Archimedes.
My first car, some time in the mid-nineties was a 1960 Mercury Comet. Mine was a hunk of junk though, it was later used in a demo derby.
No names or emotional attachment for me. Even when something breaks or it won’t start, I can’t make the imagination leap and think that it has a personality and that it’s taunting me.
I have several friends who name their cars, talk to them, etc… It completely baffles me. Even my guitar, which is certainly the one thing I would bring to a desert island, doesn’t hold a mental place of being anything more than a fun piece of technology.
I’ve named lots of my cars and I’ve assigned genders to them as well. My last one, a 2005 Toyota Prius, I loved a LOT! It had a GPS system that talked and my grandson, based on its female voice, named it “Miss Priss.” Miss Priss, the Prius.
It broke my heart to sell her. 
I took a long time (too long) to do it but could not justify keeping it after we moved to Europe. But now – no car, no problem, no regrets.
I have never named my personal vehicle, but it’s an Americorps tradition to name your team van, and most every team does so.
My first team, back in '04, went through five vans in the course of ten months (yes, we were, uh, accident prone). The first was Betsy, which was t-boned when my teammate blew through a red light. The second was Baby, which was rear-ended. Blackie’s hood got all bent up when one of my teammates jumped onto it as a prank. Then the Blue Bomb, which was retired because we ran it into the ground. We didn’t bother to name the fifth van, as we’d sort of given up by that point.
My current team, OTOH, has so far kept one van through the year so far (knock on wood). We named it the Millennium Falcon, ‘fastest ship in the galaxy’. We also had a support vehicle last round called the Henhouse.
I do usually form an emotional attachment to my cars and tend to anthropomorphize them. A few years ago I had a Dodge Die-Nasty. It was “luxury” for it’s time with cushy seats and everything, but man I hated that bitch. She would deliberately pick the worst places and times to break down- I swear she did that shit on purpose.
My last car was an old little Honda, and I liked her okay for quite a while. She was very dependable and reliable. But then the AC broke and I grew to hate her, too. I kicked her to the curb and we do not remain friends. Cunt.
My present car, I am deeply in lust with so far. It’s a new relationship, 6 months, so she has not cost me enough in repairs yet that the honeymoon has ended. She is a big girl, wide and sturdy. She makes me feel safe. She’s also very sporty and can go like a mofo. She makes me feel like a bad ass. She has lots of bells and whistles. She is shiny. She is mi Prix.