I had a Rhonda Honda and a Wanda Honda. Then I stopped giving names.
Just once, my college years POS was dubbed the “Gangrene Machine” by my crew.
Yep. The Nissan Rogue is named Kaylee. Complete with a Firefly Ship Works Serenity Edition plate on the dash and a “You are beginning to damage my calm” license plate frame.
In college I drove a Plymouth Horizon named George.
After that I had a Nissan Stanza wagon called the Tardis. It was amazing how much crap I could get into that car, moved across country twice in it.
A gent I used to work for years ago called my then-car Gray Ghost (it was mostly gray primer), while I called it %$#@^&.
I had a Ford Econoline van that had a roof that would pop up and down occasionally on the freeway. (Think of the lid of a can of rotten food. You can pop the top in then it pops back out.) It made a rumbling noise when it happened, so we named it The Thunder Bus.
My last Chrysler Town & Country van was called F Hole One. An F hole is the S shaped hole on the face of a violin or some other instruments. My band’s instruments all had them- two f hole guitars and my upright bass. The van was big enough for all of us to travel to gigs together, hence F Hole One.
*We had a The F Holes as a joke name for our band. I was Lucky F Hole, one guitarist was Harry F Hole and the other guitarist was Stretch F Hole. He is very tall.
I’ve never named a car.
Back in the primeval days of automotive transportation, my parents named their first car “Poopsie”.
I’ve had a Plymouth Horizon named “Lost” and a Dodge Caliber named “X”.
Ha! Same name as my youngest granddaughter! Her older sister is Zoe!
I’ve never understood the naming of cars. I also play upright bass - many musicians name their instruments.
I have had a Renault Dauphine named Fifi, a Dodge Dart named D’Artagnan, a Plymouth Valiant named Prince, And an Opel Kadett named McKeever.
Zoe is the name of the house. 
I used to call my dad’s Chevy Vlad the Impala, but not to his face.
I’ve got a whole mess of cars with names. Some are not too original. The Jeep is Caroline.
My license plates, since the mid-90s, have contained the term “X WING”, which is a Star Wars reference (it’s the model of starfighter that Luke flies in the movies). Those plates have now been on three cars, all of which have been nicknamed “the X-Wing” as a result, though the current car (a red Mustang) is the first one which really deserves the name. 
My wife used to have a Subaru Outback, which we named Sheila (after the Australian slang use of the name for “woman”).
A friend of mine used to own a Honda Odyssey, which she named Homer.
My 2011 Jeep Wrangler’s name is Seymour. My wife’s 2019 Jeep Cherokee’s name is Lancelot
I remember when I was a little kid and my Mom named her Dodge “Old Bessie.”
I never named my car until my recent 2019 Jeep Cherokee.
I call her “Pearl,” as the body paint is velvet red pearl.
Oh my, yes, I’m a definite car namer.
The '69 Impala was The Green Weenie.
The '56 Plymouth station wagon was Bessie.
The '67 Mercury Cougar was Cougarrand.
The '80 Chevy Blazer was Blazewhore.
The '85 Chevy Sprint was Squeeeent.
The '77 Toyota truck was Yoda.
The '89 Chevy Cavalier Z24 was Firefly. Purchased for a hunnert bucks, towed home on a dolly and rehabbed into a bitchy but fun little thing until a Waste Management truck laid her low.
My '89 Chevy propane powered G10 van is Time Bomb.
Then there are the Agneses–Agnes Day was a 1996 Toyota Camry, Agnes Dove a '99 Subaru Legacy Outback (who was stolen by hoboes and returned the worse for wear, she’s being rehabbed at the moment and has been renamed Persephone) then Agnes Tripp replaced her while she was missing–'02 Subaru Outback LL Bean model.
I also have a '92 Dodge Dakota named Wilbur.
I guess it’s because my cars tend to be old and weird with tons of personality that they all end up with names. It seems my daily drivers have settled into being “Agnes” though, and so far they’re all green.
A friend in high school had a '73 Impala named The Beast. We got in much trouble in that thing.
Another friend drove…something, I can’t remember what it was, giant grandfather-type sedan, maybe an LTD, named Claude.
Oh! And, when I was in high school, I drove my parents’ 1969 Jeep Wagoneer, which, having survived over a dozen winters in Green Bay, suffered from some serious body rust. We nicknamed it “the Rustoleum Falcon.”