I WAS at a car auction the other day, and, as I was nodding off, trying to control my nervous twitch in case I ended up buying a 10-year-old imported Japanese Previa, (incidentally, called an Enema - I think) I was stirred as the auctioneer tried to tantalise us with the next lot, "a gorgeous Big Horn in Crimson".
Maybe I was the only one there with the sense of humour of a 12-year-old, but it didn't raise so much as a snigger among my fellow bidders.
It got me wondering, what are the best and worst car names?
Anything with numbers and letters is fine. The Aston Martin DB9 has such a stylish symmetry to its moniker. Even a Mondeo sounds classy with ST220 after it.
But the wrong name could put people right off. Who remembers the Ford Probe? Only a Nasa scientist or a gynaeco- logist would drive something so badly named.
The aforementioned Big Horn, made by Isuzu, is, as its name suggests, a sizeable beast, with macho wheels and grand proportions. But why not let the car speak for itself? You might as well call it a Big Boy. Then again, no 4x4 driver wants to be seen in an Isuzu cocktail sausage.
Names that work well are plentiful. Land Rover's Discovery suggests exploration and healthy, outdoor weekends. Of course, a more apt name would be the Land Rover Surrey School Run, (with an Obese Kids special edition.) But no one is going to buy that.
The Renault Clio, with its charming marketing, works a treat. Drive a Clio and conjure up images of sexy, young French women, with real joie de vivre. Not, in reality, a girl from Oldham, called Tracey, who works in a call centre.
The Subaru Impreza is straight-away impressive. Dodge's Viper is at once dangerous, scary and poisonous, if provoked. And even the Nissan Micra does what it says on the tin. Good names.
But does anyone think that there is any part of a Mitsubishi Carisma that is in any way charismatic? I've seen more charisma at a train-spotters' convention. Honda's Jazz is to cool improvised music what Heat magazine is to current affairs.
And Skoda had the temerity to call it's big executive saloon the Superb. At least you can respect Skoda's senses of humour and (I hope) irony. At least it's aspirational. Imagine, "I drive a Skoda Average," or a "Skoda Satisfaction". That last one's not bad, actually.
Cars, I am told by friends, are simply extensions of man's macho ego. We all know that. Which is why Plymouth make a Barracuda, Ferrari had a Testarossa and Isuzu made a Big Horn.
Which takes me back to the auction. I had only just stopped sniggering, when next up came a Mazda Bongo. Still no chuckles. I ask you, no sense of humour these car dealers.
