I once saw a vehicle rather like this one out on the road. On the rear bumper was a bumper sticker that said “Ichabod”.(*)
(*) Really. Not making this up.
I didn’t start out intent on naming cars, my brothers insisted that the first one was Betty and a brother’s friend insisted that the third one (an ex Renault Cup race car) was Fred. I realized he was right. The tradition had begun.
Until recently I’d have said no.
But we bought a new car - first in 14 years - in November.
And rather prominent in the long VIN (Vehicle Identification Number) are these letters:
F A R T.
We cracked up. The salesperson said that all their hybrid SUVs had that sequence, that year.
So, of course, we refer to the car as the Fartmobile.
A friend suggested a slightly classier variant: “Le Petomane”.
We can’t call it “Mom’s car” (as we did its predecessor) since my husband and I share it.
We can’t call it “The CRV” because, when our old Civic died, my son got our old CRV.
We can’t even call it “the white CRV” because the old CRV is white.
So - Fartmobile it is.
Unintended acceleration, this car had - as soon as the pedal went down and stayed there, I’d put it, in neutral, find somewhere to park and turn it off - Christine, after that evil car in a movie is what I named it.
I called my first car, a white vw rabbit, Bianca. I would have named a real white rabbit that, is why. She was a good little first car. That was a long long time ago. None of the others.
Nope. Every vehicle we’ve owned is “the white car”, “the van”, etc.
Growing up, my parents did have a terrible station wagon nicknamed “The Blue Beast”.
I dubbed my Espresso brown Fiat 500 “Coffee Bean” before we even drove it off the lot. I probably wouldn’t have picked that color, but it was the only manual transmission they had.
I got a custom license plate reading “COFEEBN” and got lots of people pointing to the plate and laughing at stop lights and such. One person left a note on my windshield about it.
I haven’t gotten around to getting the same plate in my new home state, but it’s on my to-do list.
I don’t, however, call it that in everyday conversation. It’s either “my car” or “the Fiat.”
I read the thread title and thought to myself ‘of course, not. I’m a grown woman’. And then it occurred to me that one of our cars is, always, referred to as ‘mother’
It’s a Fiat 500X (the small SUV version). A couple of years ago we also had a Fiat 500 (the mini one), so the bigger care was ‘mother’ and the small one ‘bambino’. The small one is now sold, but we still have, and call it, mother.
I hope the neighbours can’t hear us.
All of them. Like any complex mechanical I think they do have personalities.
We have a Mazda CX-5 250 hp; it is fast and you can be doing 90 before you know it. We call it The Slut.
Forgot to add: Present car is a Hot pepper Red Focus ST. She’s called Grainne after Grace O’Malley, the Irish pirate. She’s bold, fast and eager to plunder my wallet…
That is so appropriate!
My Miss Hollywood was a Mazda MX-3. She was all show and no go, though she handled well. She was just wearing a bit too much makeup and corsetry for real speed.
There’s a silly old song from the late 1950’s or early 1960’s about a cowboy who quit breaking bucking broncos and started driving an old jalopy instead, which he named “Nelly Belle”.
The Graveyard Filler of the West :
