Car names

I have always resisted naming my cars, finding the practice much to precious for my sensibilities. Many times I have been asked if my car has a name and the response has been "Yes, Saab 9-3". However, a recent acquaintance heard my car start up for the first time and said "ooh, she's growly", Now I have decided that after 6 years of ownership, my car is indeed a girl, or maybe a woman. How many human (or goddess) years does one car year represent? Certainly not as many as dog years, let's say one car year equals 5 cars years. My car is 30, mature, but still flighty and adventurous. A great dating age.

My car was born Swedish. It took 6 years to decide she was a girl (I'm sure my mechanic knew after peering under her skirts). and I think I'm ready to consider a name. Today I wonder if people have better relations with named cars? Will a name improve my carmic rating?

I love my car. She's perfect for me. I feel absolute carma every time I see her and after every drive, long or short. She's safe, strong, sexy and stylish, yet practical, understated and sweet. Consequently, I think she needs a Swedish name and found the following useful swedish name site.

I like: Antonetta, a Swedish form of French Antoinette possibly meaning "invaluable."

I'm also considering: Linnea, meaning "twinflower." (Linnéa): Swedish name derived from the name of the flower, known in English as the "twinflower." I like this quite a bit, as it reflects the dual nature of her personality.

One more: Mia, a Danish and Swedish pet form of Maria, meaning "beloved."

I'm just not sure that naming my car is going to improve my relationship with her. I'll never get a vanity plate with her name, and will reveal her name only if someone asks. It needs to be something only she and I understand. That seems carmic.

a moment of silence

The Ford Taurus. How many of us really liked that car? I for sure did not. Not even the SVO (nearly had one of those when my car-obsesses dad thought it was the next coming of practicality mixed with sports car... the predecessor of the SUV it succumbed to). In my humble opinion, that would have been the perfect vehicle for a hybrid. Alas, the poor Taurus. May it rest in piece with the Oldsmobiles hanging around in auto heaven.

mommy cupholder: if it has a margarita in it

Today's Wall Street Journal touted an online article with the following teaser: "In trying to widen its appeal, BMW created the Ultimate Mommy Mobile—and offered a view of where luxury vehicles are headed." ALERT! Mommy who likes German autos reading the paper! So, I logged in to wsj.com to get the full scoop on why a cupholder heralds the ULTIMATE Mommy mobile.

Now, those of you who have or had a BMW will know that the cupholders suck. You can buy "upgrades"—multiple cupholders in a group to replace the stock center console. The cupholders in our 1999 BMW 540i Touring (station wagon) are flimsy swing out arms that are not useful if the car is moving. And really, aren't we all drinking too many latte's anyways? Obviously the Germans think we are having too many drinks of all kinds—in the car.

Therefore, the news that BMW was putting big ole "Big Gulp size" cupholders in thier re-designed X5 is, frankly, a pardigm shift. Not to mention, taking the X5, the most manly of the luxury SUVs in my opinion, and gearing it towards the mom crowd (of course we all know that women make something like 95% of the car purchase decisions in America). Wow. Next thing you know BWM will be putting DVD screens in the front seat head rests. Well, the car looks good. A little more narrow in the back. Lower. The reviewer for wsj.com gave it good reviews.

Did it take a new cupholder to get me to notice this car? Well, dammit, yes. And I'll take a margarita instead of a latte. In a Big Gulp cup. But puhlease, will someone please give us (Mommies) more credit — we want more than a car with real big cup holders.

Brave Brown

I saw a brown late-model 5-series BMW sedan near Jackson Square in SF last month. That's a very brave color. The car was dirty, so it was difficult to place the color as really good or bad. Certainly unusual, it it made me realize you don;t see many new brown cars (in the US at least). It also made me me re-think my "BMW owners are followers, not leaders" position. Buying a 5-series in brown requires some thought and appreciation.

A visit to the BMW USA website proved frustrating, as I couldn't really match that color with what they had offered. I think it's the amethyst grey. But it didn't seem grey to me at-all. It's possible the owner had it custom painted, or perhaps it was a model brought from Europe.

It doesn't really matter, as what interests me is how color affects carma. It's easy and appropriate to drive a red Ferrari, but there are those that buck the trend and try silver, or even blue. This speaks to me. It says "yes, I can afford and appreciate a Ferrari, but don't need to follow the expected color choice." A blue Ferrari says "fuck you" in a most delicious way. This is how I felt with the brown BMW. Any idiot can purchase a silver or black BMW–no-one will question it. But it's taking the risk of the unexpected color that excites and interests me.

It's also possible the brown BMW owner really didn't think too much about the color, or found brown as inoffensive as silver. I hope they thought all the nuance and performance of the 5-series would be wasted if it looked like the average BMW owner's car. They needed to go beyond the average. And that's carma.

a ladder (or giant fork) in the road

This past weekend we drove our touring wagon (1998 BMW 540i Touring) to Big Bear Lake in the High Sierra. I will not mention the traffic. I can’t go there. Suffice it to say we had to take turns driving to save our minds from the rage of the road -- it’s only a “2 hour drive.” My turn began on the 15 (here in SoCal we put the word “the” in front of all things with highway numbers) after a trip through the drive through at In-n-Out. As I was trying to exit for the 10E (careening across four lanes of traffic), I see out of the corner of my eye my husband gesticulating madly, mouth full of hamburger, animal style (both the burger and his grunting). I calmly assumed, as usual, that he was trying to remind me to exit (Hello! I’m already going there!), so I focused on the exit and screaming at him, “I’m getting over, for fuck’s sake!” As I’m yelling, I see a glimmer of metal to the left and then feel a shocking bump on the left front tire. The husband finishes his burger just at that moment, yelling, a little late, “Watch out for that ladder!” (As I’m thinking back on this adventure, was it really a ladder? Do we know?)

Well. The tire did not blow. The car did not spin wildly out of control. We did not die or even knock over the french fries. And I didn’t even hit it with my back wheel. As we were exiting, I checked the balance (taking hands off of wheel to see if the car had a mind of its own), which was fine, so we kept driving (yeah, yeah, bad idea). About 10 minutes later, the car makes an usual sound as it hits a small lane marker. Doesn’t sound good. We pull over (Rancho Cucamonga!) and sure enough, flat tire. The rim, luckily, is fine. We are, luckily, fine. Praise be to BMW traction control, the full size spare tire (with beautiful matching new sport rim), clean, lovely tools and a husband who once he instructed wife and toddler to “Take a walk, please,” can change a tire with the best of them. We were back on the road in 20 minutes. I was not driving.

Re my last entry, there was an article in this weekend's Wall Street Journal on personal jets. OK, so it’s not a viable solution any time soon. We figured out it would cost my family (three humans, one dog) about $8,500 to fly to Denver and back. We could drive the distance in two days for about $300 each way in our less gas guzzling car. Commercial jets: $300 each plus dog sitter, $100. I’ll just wait until it becomes more reasonable and hope that other airlines catch on to Richard Branson’s idea of towing jets to runways to save on fuel will be adopted by other airlines. Love that guy.

Cars & Fashion

Members of the Red Devils Car Club dress in black t-shirts, black Dickies pants and black work boots. This is very appropriate to the car club's affinity of early American hot rods with limited adornment. Drivers have tattoos. The cars have flames.

Which came first, the car or the clothes to wear with them? The type of car these clubs seem to prefer are unfinished, but well crafted. Solid, with adornment in contrast to a rough exterior. You could easily imagine an all-black outfit being practical for working on your own car. But, in their day, did an original owner of a 40's chop-top Ford feel compelled to wear black? The modern owners do.

The photo above is a 40's Fiat, similar to American designs. Were Italians customizing Fiats in 1940? And what were they wearing?

This makes me think about appropriate outfits for any car. We drive for personal and practical reasons. People of different backgrounds and styles can drive the same car, but a certain cultural and aesthetic demographic must suit one car better than the other, regardless of price. The Audi owner can afford the same Hugo Boss Suit as the BMW owner, but I think the Audi owner prefers Jil Sander. Is it best for the Saab owner to buy vintage suits?

Reference: New York Times - No Tangerine Flake, Baby: Hot Rods Go Back to Basic Black