The Naming Of Cars Is A Curious Thing

As well as the naming of cats (with apologies to T.S. Eliot and Andrew Lloyd Webber), but that’s another story.
Car’s names. Who names a car, anyway? Lots of us do.
This is brought to mind after reading one of the blogs I follow, wherein the writer was mourning the loss of his pickup truck, Frankenhoopety. He has a 7 y.o. daughter so you can pretty well guess where the name came from. Missed a curve in the rain. That’ll do it.
The first named car I remember – in fact the first csr I remember, was a Model A Ford that got named Singy. I cannot help but boast that I named it - I was maybe 3 or 4 when we got the car, and were all in it for the first family drive. In those days it was customary to warm the car up before moving off, and while this was happening I asked what the nose of the motor was. ‘The car is singing to us’ my father said, and I said ‘then it’s name should be Singy’. And so it was. Singy was around for quite a while. I think it was Singy that suffered the results of my terrible carsickness all the way to Wilkes Barre, PA, when we drove there for my uncle’s wedding. Suffice to say it had to be washed before my parents would drive it to the church. We may have still had it when we moved to the farm, and then had to get a truck to bring in hay and take milk to the dairy in Hudson. One day my mother had Singy loaded with aunts and cousins, going somewhere; we got about a quarter mile down the road and suddenly smoke started pouring out of the space where the shifting lever came up through the floor (ah, yes, my younger friends, in those days all cars were standard shift and Singy predated shifters on the steering column). My mother stopped and we all piled out; my mother ran back towards the house shouting ‘Honey, the cars on fire!’ my sister and I were as close behind as we could be, crying ‘Daddy , Singy’s on fire’, and the aunts and cousins were either circling the car or somewhere in between, all yelling ‘Ed the car’s on fire’. It didn’t spread and was put out with little damage. I can’t remember if we continued our trip, but I suppose we did.
I don’t remember any other cars being named for many years after that, although I remember several of the cars. And trucks. But those are other stories.
I got back into naming cars through Linda and Lynne. They had a cute little Dodge they named Samantha – nope, don’t know where that came from and neither did they but they said it just seemed like a Samanatha. After they got a newer car they stopped naming them, because if the car had a name, they couldn’t get rid of it. They sold Samanatha to my ex, just to ‘keep it in the family.
We named the theatre cars for a while, the theory being that the un-car-savvy people could identify a named thing better than ‘the green Pontiac’. Each name was carefully chosen, debated and re-debated, sometimes hotly, before one was settled on. Most of these escape me, except for Miss Mona. Miss Mona was a full size, back when they made them FULL size Ford station wagon. She was give to us by Dee’s ex (what is it about the ex’s and cars?). There were a lot of miles on her but the motor had been run on lp gas, not gasoline, so it was clean as a whistle. So, she was ours, free, and all we had to do was drive it up from Georgia. Guess who got elected to do that. Linda took me to the airport on Tuesday morning, and I said ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’. ‘Oh, no, you won’t be back until Thursday or Friday’. ‘No I’ll see you tomorrow for the matinee. Maybe not the start but before it’s over,’ At that time, I’d been doing the coat sales and been to Georgia a few times so had a good idea about how long it would take me to drive back from Savannah. After dillying around a good share of the day with waiting for something to be done to the car, and getting paperwork done, I left Savannah about 5. Got to north of DC and stopped to sleep for a few hours, and came on home. Got to Chatham about 3 or so, it was intermission of the matinee. I went in to the office and said ‘the new car has a name, and there is no debate about it. Her name is Miss Mona (after the Madam in Best Little Whorehouse in Texas).’ Linda said ‘Miss Mona? Why? ‘Because she might be a tired ol’ ‘ho, but if you talk to her right she’ll go all night and all day for you’.
Miss Mona was around for many years, and starred in many theatre stories. When we finally had to give her up, we sold her to a guy to put into the demo derby at the fair – but we insisted that he paint Miss Mona, in pink, on her.
I think I started naming cars with The Arab’s Delight – a v-8 Chevy that would pass anything on the road but a gas station. I think that’s the car I ended up with when David and I split up, he got the red convertible to use in parades. I drove the Delight for several years, took it on the road to some of the coat sales, and finally gave it to Sara, I think that was when I bought the grey Citation, which I named Silver, and I think the second grey Citation was Silver Jr. Then the blue wagon was Colonel (after the blue roan horse I had), can't recall what the white station wagon was. Now the Vue is named Big Girl – from the guy at a delivery in Michigan who asked did I drive that great big truck all the way from Massachusetts and when I said ‘well, somebody had to’, he said ‘My - you a Big Girl’.
Is it weird to name a car? Is it weird to love a car? And be sad when you miss a curve and hit a tree? Or just have to finally admit that it’s useful days are done? Define weird – those of us who do it don’t think so.
PS, AD, I’m waiting for the photos of Frankenhoopety II.