I used to name my cars. Pibroch was my 1980 Bonneville Brougham, followed by Felix (my ‘71 GMC pickup), Lucille (Plymouth Horizon), Eponine (Geo Metro, and one of my all-time favorite cars), and Alberich (’86 Olds Delta 88).
Since then I’ve driven a 1999 Olds Alero. And to be honest, I haven’t named it.
My wife’s truck had a name (Melchett), but I don’t think we ever really invested ourselves in naming her Impala, and now she drives a Caravan and it certainly has remained nameless.
It’s funny, but the car has turned from something that I think about, to something that I use. And in the process, it depersonalized.
I used to name my computers, too. Now they only have names to distinguish them on the network; I didn’t think of my Power Mac 8600/250 as “Broadsword” and I don’t think of my current HP tower as “Captain Jack” (named after a Doctor Who companion, not a character from Billy Joel songs or Pirates of the Caribbean).
I have changed. I think it’s mostly for the better. But it’s hard to say.
