What's in a name?
What do King Tut:
A killer whale:
and Richard Hammond:
of BBC's "Top Gear" all have in common?
It is, in fact, something of a circuitous route to get to the common thread running through all of these personalities and also through Car Lust, but it is there and I think worth examining. At this point, suffice it to say that, generally, we've all done it at one time or another; parents, generally, hate it when their kids do it; and I, not having ever, specifically, done it, think it's rather dumb.
"It" is, generally, naming things, and, specifically, naming cars.
We begin, naturally, at the beginning, both literally and figuratively. What's in a name? For ancient peoples, a lot. Throughout all of human history, including the present, knowing the name of a person or a thing carries some weight. In many creation myths, "things" are often called into being by some creator simply by speaking its name. The Egyptian god Ptah is said to have called into being all of the objects in the universe by first thinking about each one and then speaking its name. Lest we think this is solely the preserve of some ancient pagans, we even find the same essential concept in the Judeo-Christian tradition: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (John 1:1). In this sense, the name of a thing is seen as the essence of the thing itself; the name is part of what gives the thing its essential character. In a sense, the name of a thing is really more important than the actual things: individual objects are transitory, but the names go on forever.
This was especially true of the ancient Egyptians. Egyptian Pharoahs usually had several names, each one designed to confer certain kingly properties upon the ruler. Have you ever wondered why the pharoahs put images of themselves and wrote their names all over the place? Vanity, sure, but in Egyptian theology, having your name written and spoken after death is a form of immortality. The worst thing for an Egyptian is to have his or her name forgotten and there are instances of hated rulers having their names and images actually chiseled out of various monuments. Hence, every time we see an image (above) or speak the name of "King Tut" (or 'Tutankhamun' as he is formally known), we are continuing his life in the netherworld. No word yet on whether the shortened version of the name carries the same theological weight.
We here in the modern western world like to think of ourselves as oh-so-sophisticated and not given to such flights of religious fancy. But are we? Who among us doesn't think twice when we mention that some event, fortunately, hasn't happened to us yet and then immediately look around for a piece of wood to knock? For us, even speaking of some possible eventuality still seems to imply that Fate will somehow hear our words and make it happen anyway. We even ascribe certain characteristics to people based on their names. I'd wager that most men out there would probably be more inclined to go on a date with someone named, say, Stephanie than a Brunhilda. Likewise, I feel certain that, to pick a completely random name out of a hat, 'Anthony' is a far, far more attractive-sounding name than, say, Jedediah, or anything else for that matter.
Which brings us to our second image. In reality, that is not just any killer whale but a fairly famous one. Orphaned from her pod, she--known to local marine biologists as "A73"--was often seen nuzzling up to boats and otherwise attempting to interact with people, as social mammals are sometimes wont to do. She was undernourished and had a nasty skin disease and, hanging around people and their boats, ran the risk of being hit by any of the large vessels cruising Puget Sound.
Opinion was divided on whether to intervene or let nature take its course, but one event fairly directly pushed the decision to the former: she acquired a name, Springer. As a local television commentator put it:
"Once the baby whale got a name, I knew we were in trouble.
We might've been able to let nature take its course with Orca A-73, but Springer?
People might have simply allowed "A-73" to survive, or perish, as nature intended.
We give them names, and go to heroic lengths to save them.
That's why when an orphaned Orca whale went from being "A-73" to "Springer", I knew we were in trouble."
It's a situation every parent dreads: an animal "follows home" a child and before you know it, the kid has named the critter. And, boy-oh-boy, it's far more difficult to throw "Fred" back into the pond than any old anonymous frog. Once an animal has gotten a name, it develops a personality and thus seems more "human" to us. And so it went with Springer, who was captured, nursed back to health at great (thankfully private) expense, and released back into the wild.
And finally, we come to Richard Hammond, who bears only a passing resemblance to either of our other two celebrities. What's his connection? Much to the chagrin of his fellow hosts, he actually named a car. For the 2007 'Epic Road Trip' across Botswana, he bought a 1963 Opel Kadett which he named Oliver. He spent the night cleaning it out after dunking it in a river. He quit a Top Gear challenge in order to save "Oliver" from being smooshed by a big rig. It was featured on Hammond's "Blast Lab" TV show, and has a license (err, excuse me, 'licence") plate with "OLI V3R" on it. Does anyone think the car would have been treated differently had he named it 'Beelzebul'?
And thus we get the the main subject of this post: Naming cars. Not in the sense of model or brand naming, like 'Cougar', 'Marauder', or 'Camaro' (whatever the heck a camaro is) -- though such a discussion is probably ripe for Car Lust dissection--but giving personal names to our cars. I've come across several in recent years. A black 1971 BMW 2002 named Gerhardt. A late-1980s red Mercury Tracer wagon named Bertha. A red 2003 Mazda Protege named Carl (huh???). A light blue Chrysler LeBaron convertible named Lucille. A 1983 Saab named Elger. A series of cars named after Beatles' songs.
Others have been rather more clever. One person named her Saturn 'Jupiter.' Another named her 1965 Barracuda 'The Fish.' An old black Neon was named La Cucaracha because it just kept grinding along. A 2006 Mercedes-Benz R500 was called 'Pewterschmidt,' after the car's color and Lois Griffin's old-money parents in The Family Guy. Or a PT Cruiser named PTurbed (with a license plate to match).
Personally, I find the whole idea rather goofy, although I am as likely as anyone to supply the random animal with a nickname (our local hummingbird population is all named Rufus; all you nerds can go look it up). But I will not name my stupid cars, no matter how much affection I hold for them (which isn't much, actually). Oh, I've called them a few names over the years, which modesty and Car Lust rules of blogging etiquette forbid me from repeating here, but somehow giving a cutesy name to the damn things just seems. . . .wrong. I do confess, however, that the Spousal Unit does refer to mine as The Beast.
Why do we do it? Most would probably just say that it's a fun thing to do and sort of personalizes a pretty expensive object that we spend a lot of time in. Then again, we don't often name our houses or apartments or bicycles. I think perhaps it's due to the inherent anthropomorphic nature of the automobile itself that lends it to name-giving. They have headlights that look like eyes,a grille that looks sort of like a mouth, and four tires that substitute for legs and feet. It also "eats" (gas), expels waste out the tailpipe, and, in a sense, comes to life and moves around when the engine is on. Automakers know this and are known to tailor the look of the cars in just such a fashion. Remember the 1994 ads introducing the Neon, with its friendly "Hi" at the end? And one doubts that the aggressive slant of the headlights in the current Dodge Charger were made that way for purely functional reasons.
There might be something deeper as well. We really depend on our cars for nearly everything we do these days and, if we accept that we have chosen to anthropomorphize them to some degree, I think it might also act as something of a psychological bargaining chip. "I'll give you a name and treat you like a fellow creature, if you promise not to leave me stranded by the side of the road." I'm guessing people treated their horses in much the same way in bygone days.
Still, like Hammond's colleagues, I find it a bit silly to name a pile of metal, rubber, plastic, etc. But it doesn't really irritate me when other people do it; that's not one of those things that people do with their cars that really drives me up the wall (pun intended) such as waiting until the light turns green to turn on your stupid left turn signal!!!!
So feel free to name your favorite ride whatever you want and while I may inwardly point and giggle, I shall leave the two of you in peace.
Just don't name it Christine, please.
Credits: The Egyptian scene is of Ramesses II before Osiris at Abydos, from Anneke Bart's Egypt site
The singing frog is from FilmSite.org.
Many of the car names were provided at various times by posters at The Perfect World
--Anthony Cagle
Chris Hafner on October 13, 2009 at 11:58 AM
"In this sense, the name of a thing is seen as the essence of the thing itself; the name is part of what gives the thing its essential character. In a sense, the name of a thing is really more important than the actual things: individual objects are transitory, but the names go on forever."
*This* is why I love Car Lust.
Cookie the Dog's Owner on October 13, 2009 at 12:43 PM
Your comment:
"In this sense, the name of a thing is seen as the essence of the thing itself..."
...got me thinking about Ursula K. LeGuin's "Earthsea" stories, especially "The Rule of Names." In the magical system of that fictional world, knowing someone's "true name" gives you power over him or her--and consequently, everyone keeps their true name secret from all but a few close friends and has a nickname (kind of like a screen name) for public interactions.
In our world, giving a pet or a car or a stray baby whale a name often gives it a certain power over us, as you have pointed out.
A few from my experience: the '78 Monza was the "Brown Beast," which was not a term of endearment. A classmate of mine had a green Peugeot he called "The Booger" for much the same reason. My father's Grand Marquis was "HMS Pachyderm," which was uncannily descriptive.
Chris Meirose on October 13, 2009 at 12:59 PM
The first car I named was my 75 Impala - Bob. It was burnt orange, and Bob stood for Big Orange Beast.
I had a college roommate who had an 83 Impala we called the chariot. That car was replaced with an 84 Olds Delta 88 that was appropriately named the turd. It was poop brown, and ran like one.
Anthony Cagle on October 13, 2009 at 01:07 PM
Closest I ever came was a 1975 Buick Century that I still refer to as "that POS Buick".
I'd guess most don't really consider "that POS" a name though.
NatefromOgden on October 13, 2009 at 01:15 PM
I'm a newbie to the naming convention but I did name my Yamaha Morphous scooter Sleek Black Beauty and my 30 year old boat Fish Slayer. I've owned dozens of cars, some of which I really loved. But none of them ever got a name. Maybe I'm getting senile in my advanced age.
That Car Guy on October 13, 2009 at 01:38 PM
In this historic county, virtually all of the older properties have names. Nicolas Perkins, who brought Aaron Burr back to Washington D.C. after his duel with Alexander Hamilton, named his estate "Meeting Of The Waters" in 1801 after the meeting of the Little Harpeth and Harpeth Rivers which is in front of the home. He built his sons mansions, naming them "Montpier" and "Hillside", among others. Our farm is named "Forest Home" after the community that used to surround us. My property was named "Bushwood" after the country club in Caddyshack.
I have a friend who named her car "Zippy." She names all her cars. My Honda Interceptor VF700 was named "The Widowmaker" by my friends. And the dreadful Pontiac T1000 was called the "Shove-It", since it was a Chevette anyway.
Salvia on October 13, 2009 at 02:36 PM
It's normal to have so much affection to some stuff that we start giving it a name, that means that we care about this artifact or device, most of the time because of its usefulness.
educatordan on October 13, 2009 at 08:07 PM
My 2008 Roketa Scooter is called "Old Red" only because it's red and since it's my first scooter my fondest memories will likely be of my first.
I called my 82 Celebrity the Millennium Falcon, not because it was fast but because often you'd fix something and then end up swearing at it again, "I THOUGHT I FIXED THAT!"
My girlfriends family calls her dads 1972 Chevrolet C10, El Beasto because, it's an unrestored beast on it's 2nd engine and transmission.
Chatham Harrison on October 13, 2009 at 11:14 PM
I had a truck named Truck in College. It drove places, and hauled stuff, so I felt the name fit nicely.
My girlfriend calls her old Grand Prix Barry. She named my ZX2 Jack. She refuses to give a reason for either name.
Paul Bubel on October 13, 2009 at 11:41 PM
I had a very used Nissan Z as my first car. I owned it around 13 years and 325,000. You get an attachment after that much time, especially in a vehicle that was so quirky. I called her Gertrude for no logical reason that I can now remember.
I had a couple more cars over the years but nothing more than A to B appliances for the most part. They never got a name. That was till I bought my latest, Guzzler, an '05 Grand Cherokee with the 5.7 Hemi and 2" lift. That beast has tons of personality.
Mochi Mochi on October 14, 2009 at 12:33 PM
the sign is not the signified, the map is not the territory. wonderful article Anthony. This naming thing is something I've been on two sides of. When I was in high-school and college it seemed right to name vehicles in a personalized way. We did it with pets, I did it with our old Ford Falcon. It seemed like an extension of the naming of ships and boats. But a switch got thrown along the way and the personalized naming just came to a halt.
Then Descriptor names appeared, sparked by a friend of mine who named my first Civic, "the egg car". My current Si then got called "the little red car", which worked wonderfully well as a name/descriptor until I got a second car that was also little and red.
I do think the anthropomorphic design of cars does encourage their naming, or the attachment that lends itself to naming. Also the fact that these things seem on a certain level to be almost "alive". In our primitive brains they move, they "breath", they consume "eat" in order to do their work. They are either reliable and dependable or they quirky and stubborn like an ox or a mule. In the best examples they have some kind of "personality". I'm not fond of granting cars human status, but it's hard not to think of them a "ole bessie" every now and then and we do get attached to them sometimes far beyond reason.
...m... on October 14, 2009 at 01:15 PM
...mehve, my elise, is my first-ever car with a proper name - she's named after a sailplane from miyazaki hayao's 'nausicaä of the valley of wind', specifically, the principal character's personal aircraft as originally romanised back in 1990 for the first english translation of the source manga, that in turn based upon a japanese transliteration of the german word for seagull, or mowë...
...i was delighted to find a custom plate available with her name, unfortunately i never anticipated that most people seem to read it as shorthand for an illiterate-sounding 'me have'...
...m... on October 14, 2009 at 01:18 PM
...curse my umlauts, that should read möve...
...m... on October 14, 2009 at 02:09 PM
...möwe, rather - this is what i get for typing in brief broken-attention bursts at work...
pegatuar on October 14, 2009 at 04:12 PM
My sister's friend in college named his car Vlad. It was an Impala.
res on October 14, 2009 at 04:25 PM
Tennessee Steinmetz: Herbie's all right.
Jim Douglas: Whos Herbie?
Tennessee Steinmetz: This little car. Named after my Uncle Herb. He
used to box middleweight. Preliminary, mostly. Gradually, his nose
got shaped more and more like to remind me of this little car. Do
you mind?
Jim Douglas: [laughing with him] Whatever you say, Tennessee.
Keith on October 14, 2009 at 04:39 PM
When I was 10 my Dad bought a metallic copper 77 Porsche 911 Targa and I named it Clyde, after the Orangutan in the Clint Eastwood movie "Every Which Way But Loose" because I kinda thought that the 911 looked like an Orangutan... big eyes, big smiling bumper mouth. Big surprise... Clyde is sitting in my garage right now.
Paul S on October 14, 2009 at 04:51 PM
My favorite name for a car was one given to a Blue Plymouth Horizon: Beyond
Mason on October 14, 2009 at 05:11 PM
I once owned (or was owned by) a Jaguar XJS 12 cylinder. Name? The Anti-Christ.
Simon Buckley on October 14, 2009 at 05:28 PM
Only once. I had a 1972 Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser in college that I bought for $10. It had a license plate that I found on the road. I could pack 15 people in her to drive down to the local Ramada Inn Happy Hour ($1 drinks and a great buffet. Hey, it was college.) Parked it all over the campus, disregarding all parking regulations. Finally it was towed, but they could not trace it back to me.
It had a 350 V8 (well, more like a V6.5) was easily tracked by the cloud of mosquito killing smoke, and was named Josephine, after the George Thorogood song.
"Ride on Josephine,
Child, you're a runnin' machine.
Baby, baby, ride on Josephine
Baby, ride on."
Good times
Braden on October 14, 2009 at 05:29 PM
In college I had a four-door blue Plymouth Sundance. We called it The Blue Comma - push the gas pedal, then there was a short pause, and then it would begin to accelerate.
John on October 14, 2009 at 05:37 PM
I call my Mitsubishi Galant "Betty"
cruiseco on October 14, 2009 at 06:02 PM
"My favorite name for a car was one given to a Blue Plymouth Horizon: Beyond"
I still miss Herb Caen
Rob on October 14, 2009 at 06:14 PM
Friends of ours had a '77 Suburban named "James" as it was much too big to be a "Jimmy".
Nathan of Brainfertilizer Fame on October 14, 2009 at 10:15 PM
I tried to name my first car the Millennium Falcon. It was a '68 Pontiac Tempest, and even though she didn't look like much, she was fast enough for you, old man.
But I couldn't make it stick, even for me.
I'm just not enough into naming cars, either, I guess.