On an unrelated topic- because I seem to be doing that today- I think I settled on a name for my car. When I drove it home from Salisbury, it didn’t seem to feel like a female, but more of a male car. That probably seems strange to most of you, how can a hunk of metal and rubber feel like any kind of gender? But it did, and so I decided to wait and see what his name would be. Coming across the Bay Bridge, the second time in three days, there was a gorgeous sunset and the letter C came to mind. My daughter had been dropped of at college, I bought a coupe, the car is the color of the skies at the beach when I normally go there (gray ‘cuase remember, it always rains!!) – although I love the beach on a gray day – but I still didn’t feel right about the name. So I waited a few more days and then it came to me.. his name is C. Everett. C’mon people,…. you can do it…..
My other cars, just so you know, all told me their names too. I had Gnat (a 63 Corvair) – a little white car, GDN (a 79 Datsun 210) – named for letters in her plate and that I worked for Herb Gordon at the time, Urban Bourbon or the Beast (93 ? Suburban) – named for the size and color, Elle (00 Intrepid) – named for the eleven cents I found in her, Trixie (05 Solara) – named because she was really tricky to drive with multiple blind spots, S’cute (07 Kia) – named because she’s a Sport Cute, as opposed to a Sport Ute, and now C. Everett.
I got this silly habit from my parents… they named their cars too. We had Bessie, Bertha, Prissy, Mean Green, The Jelly Bean and a few others I can’t recall.
When you think about it, your car becomes a member of your family. A trusted companion and worker. You get in it and expect it to go, you learn it’s little quirks and accept them (or not) and you spend time working together in a symbiotic fashion. I like to know the names of the people in my family, and now I do!