What's In A Name?

He drinks a Whiskey drink, he drinks a Vodka drink

He drinks a Lager drink, he drinks a Cider drink

He sings the songs that remind him of the good times

He sings the songs that remind him of the best times

O Danny Boy, Danny Boy, Danny Boy

 - Tubthumping

Danny Boy

I've never been one to name my cars. I don't know if my cars didn't have any personality, or if maybe it was me without personality. That isn't meant to imply that my cars never had names, just that someone else did the naming.

I bought my first car from my brother, essentially for the cost of the wheels. A 1980 Pontiac Grand Prix, it had a 4.3L V8 engine with 125 hp and room enough to fit 8 for road trips. The 8 didn't fit comfortably, but I always had a seat to myself, so what did I care?

Looks just like mine, but not mine ... pic ripped from the web! 

Leaning against the Grand Prix. It didn't have a name but who cares when the driver is so flash! 

My first car with a name was a 1978 MG-B. I bought it because it was cheap and it was a convertible. I was living in Hawaii and it seemed perfect. An old, cheap, British car ... yep, totally practical for a college student on a budget. I spent as much time tinkering with it as I did driving it. My girlfriend named it Cameron, probably because she thought it was a quintessentially British name, or maybe because she was a fan of John Hughes films. I'm not sure.

Cameron 

My next car, also bought in Hawaii, was named by the same girlfriend and it really pissed me off. I was so angry every time she called it Flipper. In the 1990's there was a spate of reports about SUV roll-overs. First of all, those were SUVs ... Jeep Cherokee type vehicles, not Wranglers. Second of all, it was actually Ford Explorers that were recalled, not Jeep products at all. Third of all, mine was a 1985 Jeep CJ-7, an older and completely different kind of car. Yet Flipper the car remained ... I suspect the name stuck because it pissed me off so much.

I loved this Jeep and wish I had never gotten rid of it.

I lived another 23 years and drove a number of vehicles that were never given names. Shocking, I know! Moving to New Zealand, my contract included the use of a leased car. Prior to my arrival, I had asked for a wagon or an SUV, preferably something with 4-wheel drive; a car that would fit our active gear-laden lifestyle. What we got was a Suzuki Swift.

The Swift is a perfectly serviceable vehicle. It's easy to drive, easy to park, sips petrol, and barely has any blind spots. Unfortunately, it can barely fit the three of us and groceries, let alone the three of us and bags when we are travelling. There isn't enough room in the back seat for Little H's long gangly limbs, and Taylor really struggles going up hills. She looks nice, and seems to be able to do the job, but there's no there there. I'm sure she will write a break-up song about me when we get rid of her in 6 months. I think Little H wants to hate her too, but I occasionally catch her singing along.

Taylor, our Suzuki Swift.

We finally got around to buying a car that fits our needs. One of those needs, though, is the ability to unload it and not take too much of a financial hit when we leave New Zealand in 6 months. I had a limited budget and got exactly what I paid for; a beat up 1996 Nissan Terrano. There are dents and welds, and it looks like the front left quarter-panel has been dented then beaten out to something approximating its original shape. Plastic bits and pieces are missing from the inside, and it smells like old musty carpet. Little H is so embarrassed to be seen in it she makes me drop her off for school a block away. Perfect!

We recently took a trip to the South Island, driving from Palmerston North to Wellington and catching the InterIslander across the Cook Strait. My brother and sister-in-law were with us and we were meeting Dan, my college room-mate, during his tour of the South Island. We loaded up the truck and off we went. After a great 4 days on the Queen Charlotte Track, the subject of a future post, we were up for a day of brewery and winery tours in Blenheim. Along the way, Dan asked if I had given the car a name. I had not. We laughed and joked about Taylor, and I told him about a hire-car on our last South Island trip that I ended up naming Squishy because of the loose steering. I remarked about the Terrano's sordid past, dings and dents, but that it runs great. It got knocked down but it got up again ... I'm sure I sang the lyrics. Dan immediately dubbed it Chumbawamba and the name has stuck.

Meet Chumbawamba

We've had quite a few adventures with friends and family in town over the past couple of weeks and we are working on those posts. Kari has been adding some colour commentary to my play-by-play, adding her perspective to my dry narrative. And I think our photography skills are growing by leaps and bounds. I'm excited to get some more posts out soon.

Are you not entertained?