I believe that cars should be named, if there is significance behind the name. For instance, my car, ( a 1991 Ford Mustang) is named the Millennium Falcon because as my friends said, it’s the fastest hunk’o’junk in the galaxy.
My first car was a green Jeep Commando 1974, I think.
I named it Geronimo. I was in college when I had this car. I haven’t named a car since, though. Didn’t seem right after that.
Many people (myself included) become very attached to a car they’ve had for several years, that’s taken them where they want to go, in comfort and security. I have a '96 Toyota Corolla that I hope will outlive me – I’ve taken very good care of it, and it’s taken good care of me. We’re buddies, so why shouldn’t I have given her a name?
My Dear Boys:
I attribute naming cars to the analogy of naming beloved stuffed animals…I am a girl (albeit a 49 y.o. girl). All of my cars have been named, and each name was specific to each car’s special attributes. I currently own a Honda Element, and his (all my cars have been male-oriented) name is Pug, because the Element is “pug-ugly”; that is, cute and ugly at the same time. Yes, we intuitively know it’s a mechanical object that does not, in fact, have a human-like personality, but one’s car is also a family member: something of a partner in work and life, and partners need names. It may be inexplicable to you as males, because (in my experience) men can’t submit to this emotional link easily, so they insist (as a defense mechanism) that a car is just a machine. I submit that a car is a family member, like a dog or cat, and is named by its owner as a token of its emotional importance in one’s life.
Your Pal Forever,
Nettie Hansen
Buffalo, New York
Name cars? Optional! But for me an absolute must. Referring to the brothers’ remark, “unmitigated trash” fits the description of some people I know…and they have names. Since 1943 I have owned or co-owned 24 cars, and they all have had distinctive names. My present Corolla Leanora (Beethoven) replaced beloved Corolla Abigail (351K miles). Her nickname is Nellie, and I talk to her, e.g. when someone cuts us off, “Where, Nell did he come from?!!”
In the remoter areas of New Zealand and Australia, one’s life partly depends on one’s car, so it needs to have a name. In New Zealand in 1972, our 1956 Ford Consul was named Jezebel because she was such a traitress. She had to be parked on a hill at night, so we could start her in the morning by rolling her downhill. In Australia, our Holden was named the Blue Streak because I scraped it along something that was blue and collected a streak of blue paint. Thank goodness it was reliable driving from Townsville to Tennant Creek to Darwin in 1973! But not all cars need names. In safer (?) America, our Toyotas have never been named.
My 2001 PT Cruiser is named Barnum. It makes you think. I’d never name it something Pete or Petulia though, that would be too “cute”.
George in Chicago
The caller today said he had a Ford F250 the previous owner referred to as “Mark.”
This really made me wonder, on account of I once purchased a 1974 Ford F250, which was a wonderful dated green color, and was equipped with dual exhaust and blown out glasspacks. The sound was exquisite! (But never mind that.)
Once when I was changing the air cleaner, I noticed the letters HARVEY were neatly stenciled on the firewall.
The stenciling was in fact so neat that I assumed the letters were put on at the factory. Hmmmmmmm. I can’t help what a close inspection of “Mark’s” firewall would reveal?
-jtd
P.S. I later sold “Harvey” to a friend, who later sold “him” to someone else. Somehow, I hope that somehow, somewhere in America, Harvey is roaring down the freeway, pipes cackling gloriously.
I always name my cars! I had a Honda named Jane. Jane Honda (get it?); had an AMC Hornet named Bea (get it?); and I currently have a Toyota which I was going to name LaToya Toyota, but decided that would insult the car. So her name is Ravina. Don’t you guys believe in animism? The belief that inanimate objects have souls. That’s what keeps my stuff running – like a 38 year old fridge, etc. You have to talk to them – baby them – compliment them, etc.
I named my first car and it unfortunately lived up to it. It was a 1960-something Pontiac Bonneville. It was a big boat of a car. I paid $100.00 for it and named it “Uriah The Heap”. Less than a month into my ownership I was in an accident and the front end buckled. I couldn’t get the hood open to change the oil so they guys at the shop cut a big slice off the hood. It looked like it had one big nostril in a crumpled face. A couple weeks after that my friend was driving it and got rear-ended. At least now I had a compact car. Poor ol’ Heap. I gave it the heave-ho by selling to a guy down the street for $1.00.
My next car was a VW Beetle. I called it “Heap Junior”. It however, was great little car. Wish I still had it.
I haven’t named any cars since.
Great Topic guys. Love your show.
Lesa Pennington
Cave Creek, AZ
1 Like
I’ve had several cars named by friends.
My first car was a 1954 Jaguar MK VII. I would open the sunroof and stick our surfboards in through the sunroof and into the back seat. My friends named it the “Surf Wagon”.
One was a 1960 Morris Minor, it was black with a double white ‘racing stripe’ down the center from front to back, my friends called it “Leaping Lena”. That was because I would be in 3rd gear by the time I crossed the intersection after taking off from a red light. I could make it leap out quickly, but there was not much more after that.
Another was a 1967 E-Type 2+2, silver, which, like the Morris Minor, would leap, but would also keep going after the initial leap. Being as I always drove rather fast (once driving from Gainesville, FL to Tampa, FL, about 125 miles exit-to-exit, in 55 minutes). My friends dubbed my E-Type “The Silver Bullet”.
Truck Baby was a '63 Dodge Town Panel truck with a slant 6 engine. I fell in love with my husband in 1979 when he used a string with a nut tied to the end to gauge how much gas was in “Truck Baby’s” tank. So resourceful! When she finally died, Truck Baby became a goat shed on the island.
More recently, Gertrude was a part of our lives. Gertrude was a fat harridan – a '91 Plymouth Voyager – She would never have earned a name except that she constantly dinged and donged to inform you of your every transgression, doors ajar, needs gas etc. very annoying.
Ok, so you guys don’t think a car has need for a name? Well, some of them do, they call out for it, and they can really get into retribution if you don’t recognize that.
The only ‘car’ I ever had that call from was a 1967 International Harvester Travelall, in surplus government grey, purchased with 66000 mi in 1974 when all my other cars died. I called him [yeah, him] “Bronto.”
Short for Brontosaurus. He had the brain the size of a pea, and wallowed down the road, regardless of what got in its way. It was virtually impact resistant, made of heavy gauge steel, with a “cornbinder” straight-6 286 engine that wouldn’t quit under load, even with my remarkable disdain for maintenance in those days. I reluctantly sold him 100,000 miles later, with the added brontosaurus hood ornament still in place.
Pretty much, except for this buddy and an earlier 1967 Volvo 122, none of the other cars I’ve had called for their own name.
Cars: still the most passive-agressive creatures on earth, except for computers. Gotta love em. Or not.
Thanks for your show, it keeps us happy.
Life Ain?t Easy for a Car Named ?Mark?
by DAN SLANDERS
Mis-advice columnist
I?m Dan Slanders, age 55 from Burlington, Washington. You were correct; naming cars is mostly but not entirely a female thing. I don?t name my cars but have great respect for those guys who do. What to re-name a car named ?Mark?? I?m your go-to guy. As a boat-builder for 8 years, I bore witness to numerous yachts being named, and I had a similar version of Robert?s problem 46 years ago, just after my mother gave birth to a new little (gasp!) girl.
You see, I?d picked out 3 or 4 names for a new little brother. It never dawned on me that my dad may have contributed the wrong chromosome.
Long before the due-date, I had given my parents a list of names I had picked out for my new sibling. I was beside myself waiting to hear which of those names my parents had chosen. Talk about status! Wouldn?t my fellow 8-year-old little league baseball companions be envious when I announced my new little brother?s name was Mickey Mantle Slanders, or Willie Mays Slanders or Carl Yastrazemski Slanders.
I?d seen far too many episodes of Zorro to panic when the bad news came. I knew that in a crisis, it was important to stay focused and be certain the sword was sharp. With just a little detective work, I found out occasionally newborns were renamed. With this ammunition, I again read through nearly all 468 of my baseball cards and stuck pay-dirt. A second baseman?s name from the Chicago White Sox who was the AL MVP and led the league in triples was going to give me bragging rights. Certainly my parents wouldn?t give this name the deep six. But reject it they did. I plunged into despair when my parents tried to explain why Nellie Fox Slanders would not be my baby sister?s new name.
For Robert and his car to avoid PTAGSD, known to counselors like myself as Post Traumatic Automotive-Gender Stress Disorder, his car must be re-named ?Nellie Fox?. It is not necessary for Robert to surgically detach the exhaust pipe.
Signed,
Dan Slanders
(thanks hell, it takes money to buy whiskey!)
Don’t open my attachment. I couldn’t figure out how to “un-attach” it. Thanks, Dan Slanders
Name your house, but don’t put it on your address labels. Everybody will think you are running a business and try to bury you with junk mail. Don’t name your kids anything that you wouldn’t want to yell outside where people can hear you. Free Beer is a good name for anything.
For most of my life, car naming was pretty normal. The first car that I remember seeing a name for was my mother’s '82 Chrysler, which she called the ‘Blue Knight’, which we assumed was a male name. The car was big, baby blue, and today I would consider it to be ugly as sin. Of course, I was just a kid back then, so it didn’t make me any nevermind.
After I got married, my husband and I acquired our first car since moving to Germany, which carried the name ‘Goldie’, which my mother-in-law lovingly dubbed. When we had to have the car ‘put down’ several years after acquiring it, my husband and I were both heartbroken at having to give up our beloved 19 year old Honda Civic because German law wouldn’t allow us to drive her anymore. So, that fateful day in 2004 will not soon be forgotten.
We now have a 2000 Opel Corsa, which we have given the name ‘Blau B?r’ (or in English, Blue Bear).
The Y. of S and Y.
I named my car “Columbia II” because I got it right after the space shuttle crashed.
I have named several of my cars. One I had a full size Caprice Classic Wagon, with the big V8. When I stepped into it, I can watch the gas gauge go down. I named her Jaws.
Though, alot now a days, I do not name my vehicles, though I do call them some names when things are bad. 
Although my recent cars have not had names, my first 2 did. In 1969 I was a freshman at Duke University. My parents said if they were paying for car insurance I had to buy a heavy car. I bought a dark grey Cadillac that reminded me of a strict, demanding Spanish teacher I had had.I named it Graciella after her. Dad had said to respect my car, treat it well and it would last. No way could I forget to give Graciella her oil change; she would never had put up with it.
Graciella proved to be a good protector. One day, late for class I pulled out of the parking lot without noticing the other student, late for a class in the opposite direction speeding towards me. Only the cars were hurt.
My replacement car was a 1959 or 1960 Cadillac. She was a beautiful baby blue and white two tone extended sedan (a limited number of extended sedans were made.) She was a memorable and distinctive car; everyone on campus knew where I was if I drove. She was Gracielita because she was like a transformed, more beautiful version of Graciella.
I think women should always name their first cars. Women care about beings of all kinds and are likely to be natural caretakers for them. On the other hand many women, myself included, could care less for inanimate lumps of metal.
I also think cars more than 10 years old deserve names. They have demonstrated remarkable staying power and deserve the respect of a name.