What do You Name?

Everyone names pets. Some people name body parts. At our house, we name our vehicles.

We didn’t always do that, but it is becoming a tradition.

It all started with a 1994 BMW 3-Series. Since he was assembled in Munich, we gave him a nice Germanic name, “Hans”.

When we sized-up to a 7-seater Mazda SUV from a 5-seater Pathfinder in 2009, our six-year-old daughter immediately named her, “Lucie”. Of course, that was just before carving a two foot scratch down her passenger side with the brake lever of her bicycle. Lucie still has a ≠ sticker on her left rear bumper and a “Save the Human Babies” sticker on her rear window. This bulbous, gas-guzzling, people-hauling girl served our family well for holiday trips, college moves and garden centre stock ups. Still going strong at 220,000 miles, but we no longer trust her to venture too far from home.

When Hans turned nineteen, I reluctantly sold him. My teenage son was not impressed, thinking he would be next in line to take the wheel. Hans was replaced by a new white twin-turbo 3-Series who became “Shadowfax” — named by our kids after Gandalf’s white stallion in The Lord of the Rings.

On Shadowfax — show us the meaning of haste!”
Gandalf the Grey

Our eldest daughter named her first car, “Angel”. Not sure why, but she apparently gave it a lot of thought, and it stuck.

Twelve years after up-sizing, we slid back down to a 5-seater SUV in 2021. My wife named him, “Mr Slate”, because he was a sexy, blue-grey, black-wheeled turbo-charged stud. (As background, I think Mr. Slate was Fred Flinstone’s boss at the quarry.) Not sure Fred’s boss was sexy or turbo-charged or a stud.