I name my cars. Actually, every member of my family does, too. When I was a kid, we had the Polara-bear (a white 1964 Dodge Polara), the “Queen Mary” (1956 Cadillac Sedan DeVille), and quite a few others I can’t remember the name of. They had names, though.
I myself have personally owned:
[ol]
[li]The Stratos-Falcon – I had delusions of grandeur on it’s behalf. “It” being my first car, a clapped-out 1966 Ford Falcon with over 100,000 hard miles on it. I actually put wide tires and air shocks in the back and installed a tiny aftermarket steering wheel. This thing had a 200 cubic-inch six in it. The only way it could’ve set a record in the quarter mile would be to drop it from 1320 feet of altitude.[/li]
[li]The Little Yellow Monster (a.k.a. The Little Yellow Hootenanny) – A 1972 Toyota Celica coupe with over 65,000 (apparently quite abusive) miles on it. I didn’t realize at the time that buyer’s remorse was a good-enough excuse to take it back to the dealer and demand a refund. If I’d had more motorhead friends (or more automotive skills myself) it would’ve been a very, very nice car. It was fun, but it always sounded as if it were about to breathe its last. The guy I sold it to rebuilt it and I always wished that I’d paid him to do that for me rather than sell it. My next car was rather unexciting, but at least I had a motorcycle for fun.[/li]
[li]The Battlecruiser – A 1976 Ford Grenada with that gray paint that everyone (except me) thought looked so sophisticated during the mid-seventies. It had a peeling maroon vinyl top. It was hideous, but it worked.[/li]
[li]The Smurfmobile – A 1986 Chevy Sprint (rebadged Suzuki Swift, if I’m not mistaken). It had 48 hamster-power (one less than my motorcycle at the time) and got better than 35 MPG around town. It was a hoot to drive as long as you weren’t interested in going very fast before, say, Tuesday after next?[/li]
[li]A 1990 Pontiac Grand Prix that I inexplicably could not name. It was white and relatively problem-free. It was definitely the sexiest and sportiest car I had ever owned. I once thought of naming it the Snow Leopard, but said “Nawwww…”. It was about this time I came up with the theory that a car which didn’t irritate you in some way did not inspire a name.[/li]
[li]The Baby Shoe – a 1992 Buick Skylark Grand Sport Coupe. I think it was my own fault that I could not warm up to this car. After all, it was a Buick, fer crissakes! Of course, it was white.[/li]
[li]The Bulldog – a 1995 Dodge Stratus ES. I loved that car. It was the most powerful car I had ever owned. Don’t laugh. Refer to the Smurphmobile above. It handled predictably, if not particularly well (I could bend it to my will with no “surprises”). It got decent gas mileage.[/li]
[li]The string of named cars is broken here – I was married to TW, during which time I traded her car up several times and mine once. After we divorced, she insisted we trade cars (her A/C didn’t work – she didn’t know about my car’s electrical problems, I remembered her car was still under an extended service agreement :D), so that leaves me with…[/li]
[li]The Breadbox – a 1994 Dodge Grand Caravan. I’m no warmer to this vehicle than I was to the Baby Shoe. I must admit it accelerates harder than my previous car, a 1993 Chrysler Concorde. It rides smoother. I also sit much higher and feel like I’m driving a phone booth around town. I prefer cars to trucks or truck-like vehicles.[/li][/ol]
What cars have you owned and what were their names?
Well, the only two cars that I know of that my family ever named are:
The Lizard - A lime green El Camino. Oh yeah. It got run into a pole leaving a huge dent at the dead center of the front of the car, which for some reason gave it an oddly, reptilian look. This happened before I was born so I only know it from parental stories.
The car I currently drive, a 94 Buick Roadmaster, has been redubbed by our family as The RoadMasher. You know, because it’s so big, har har.
Dino- a '93 maroon Accord EX, chipped to a little under 190 bhp. Once beat a '79 Porsche 911 CS in a “0-60 from the lights” race, thanks to my natty “throw it into D3 at exactly 2900 revs” trick. So named because we were moving an old fridge out one day, and started throwing the attached magnets around in the backyard. One happened to be Dino- the dinosaur/dog from The Flintstones- and it hit the car and stuck just above the right taillight cluster, just where a badge would usually go. It looked so right that I left it there for three years. Put 170,000 miles on her, until she finally died when a fan relay failed on an Ohio-Florida drive, causing massive overheating (temporarily overcome by removing the front grille and doing 90 down the entire length of I-75), which led to a blown head gasket :(.
The car by which all others I have or will own shall be judged.
Baby Blue- a navy '95 Nissan Altima GLE. We were together for only a short time; she developed an engine fault- kind of a stutter- shortly after I got her, and neither Nissan nor the shitty dealer I bought her from could correctly diagnose it. I swallowed a $4k loss on that one, mostly through my own stupidity.
Roxanne- an '02 black Hyundai Elantra GLS. So named because I backed her into an illegally-parked truck while attempting to make a cigarette run while half-asleep, causing the left rear taillight cover to be smashed- hence, she needed to “put on a red light”. She’s up to almost 35,000 miles now, with nary a problem, although I need to take her in for a recall refitting of the brake lines.
Three of my vehicles have been named:
[ul]
[li]The Beast - A 1977 Ford F-250 pickup; it was a 4WD extended cab monster with a 9-foot flatbed and a plow. A friend of mine and I removed the original engine and replaced it with a 351-C 4v from a 1970 Mercury, which we had completely rebuilt. I painted the cab in camouflage. It was very distinctive.[/li][li]The Black Bison - It’s a Thomas Minotour-A school bus on a Ford E350 chassis, painted black with red flames on the hood and fenders. No seats - I use it as a hauler to set up stuff at flea markets.[/li][li]Stybba - My daily drive, a small black '92 Mazda pickup that has proved every bit as rugged and dependable as the small pony it was named for, the pony Merry rode in Lord of the Rings.[/li][/ul]
Okay I know this doesn’t really fit here. I don’t name my vehicles, but every time I park, just before I get out, I give them an affectionate little pat on the dash and tell them “good car”. Highly demented, I know.
I’ve always figured there’s no sense giving something a name if it isn’t go to respond to it. So I don’t name cars, houses, household appliances, or cats.
Used to have a blue 1993 Chevy van, which we named “Vanna Blue.” We even got custom license plates “VANA BLU.”
One of our current cars, which I got from my SIL when they moved, is an old Toyota Corolla which used to be owned by a schoolteacher. One day in the faculty lot somebody keyed the word “Fag” on the driver’s door, so the car was named “The Fagmobile,” and we inherited the name along with the car. I think I’ll forgo the vanity plates on this one, however.
You know, for some reason, I’ve had 3 different cars that I named Sylvia. I’m not really sure why, but the name just seemed to fit all of them.
I also had one named “Petey”.
Do you ever wonder why some cars get “girl” names and some get “guy” names, and some get neutral names?
My current car was somewhat difficult to name. I usually let them tell me if they’re male or female, and usually an appropriate name comes to me eventually. Right now I’m driving a 2000 Ford Taurus sedan, and it feels like a female, but the only name that came to me was “Taury” – not too original. I really like this car, too, but she just doesn’t have a whole lot of personality.
I haven’t (so far) gotten into naming them based on a physical characteristic…
My car is a 1991 Dodge Shadow (silver, 2 door but bargain-basement model. Fear my 3 speed automatic!), and it never occurred to me not to name it. I name most of the stuff I have.
freaky mavericky-my very first car which i actually went to the bank and got a $750 loan for was a 1977 ford maverick…in the fashionable shade of pea green.
the rocket-my '99 candy apple red trans am/ram air. this is not very original, but appropriate…
Just so you know, my car is currently at LEAST 75 feet away, on the other side of the house, and up one floor. There is no way that My Baby can possibly think I would ever say anything bad about it. I have only been pissed at previous cars, never My Baby.
You know what happens when cars catch wind of their owners bitching about them, right?
A '59 Pontiac Bonneville named Poncho Blue Puppydog.
A '69 Buick LeSabre named Maurice. Maurice was loaded, had an electric seat that would lean back to where I looked like a normal sized guy.
A '61 Ford Vanette named Harvey (the famed 6-foot rabbit could have stood up inside without touching his ears on the ceiling) Harvey was a breadtruck-sized delivery van with dual rear wheels.
A '71 Volvo 244 named Rolf. I loved the seats, but it broke a lot.
A '74 Olds Delta Royale named Vera. All green with huge cushy seats.
A '75 Pontiac Grand Am, back when the GA was big, named Lydia. I had a speed shop put on headers and a huge Holley carb. Cragar wheels, fat tires. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
An '85 Buick Riviera whose name I can’t recall.
An '85 Chevy Silverado 1/2 ton pickup, Boris, after Yeltsin, who was a big deal then. I later bought a fishing boat named with the same red/silver paint scheme named Natasha, after Boris Badenov’s squeeze.
My current ride is a '95 GMC Sierra 1/2 ton shortbed with extended cab. The name is Oliver, but I rarely call it that.
Rhonda- A 1994 Chrysler LeBaron GTC Convertable. It was way to over the top to be female, but to pretty to be male. We decided she was a drag queen and named her Rhonda. When she had her pretty white fluffy steering wheel cover on, she was Shenaynay!
My current car is a Daewoo Laganza SE. I named her Pookie. Not sure why, but when I am talking to her, that’s what I call her.
