04
Aug 2009
What's in a name? Lots, if it's a car name
The news that Nissan is to call its new electric car the Leaf is likely to elicit groans from anyone interested in cars. The attempt to connect the Japanese new electric car with some vague form of ecology is as banal as it is predictable.
Believe it or not a lot of thought goes into these names, with well-received names a big factor in purchasing. Ever wonder why Ford and VW have stuck with names like the Fiesta and Golf for decades? And why Vauxhall ditched the Vectra moniker for its new Insignia saloon?
A good name is something to hang on to, and a recent spate of comebacks of famous badges - Fiat 500, Renault Twingo, Volkswagen Scirocco - indicates the value of a strong brand.
[caption id="attachment_400" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Nissan leaf - safe, predictable, conveys \'green\' message"]
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But the Leaf is a long line of crapulous naming conventions deployed by manufacturers over the years, although given the choice between an actual name and an alphanumeric designation, I'd take a Ssangyong Kyron over a BMW Z4 any day. Well, you know what I mean.
A current cast around the car parc at the moment reveals three things: car-makers going upmarket think numbers and letters sound cooler; there are lots of cars named after various ethnic tribes, European winds or obscure latin; and the rest tend to boast names that sound like they should mean something but don't.
Focus, Note, Micra, Jetta, Cruze, Insignia, Superb, Accord. All of them hint at an actual characteristic of the car that bears the badge. Do they? Probably not.
What, after all, is a Fabia? And why is the Golf rebadged as Rabbit in other markets? Is Agila a real word?
Most of them reference something thought exceptional, though there is the odd descriptive name. Boxster being a blend of boxer engine and roadster, for example.
Of the ethnic monikers, you can take your pick from Qashqai (Iranian goat herders), Auris (latin for Gold), Ibiza (Spanish island), Prius (latin for 'first' or 'before'), Touareg (Saharan tribe).
There's a curious subset of the first category that includes cars that seem to have been given the stupidest name imaginable. My personal favourite is the Mazda Bongo Friendee. Is it supposed to sound like Friendly? Where does Bongo come in? We'll never know.
[caption id="attachment_401" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Mazda Bongo Friendee - tears up the rule book"]
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In the 80s many of the best cars were named after Mediterranean places or winds - Cortina, Capri, Scirocco, Sierra, Dolomite – and sounded all the better for it. Even a Dagenham-built rust bucket sounded exotic with a name like that.
It's also a curious fact of passenger car designation that two Ford models of this era – the Escort and the Fiesta – shared their names with pornographic magazines. Taking it to its logical conclusion we should be grateful the Focus isn't called the Jugs or Razzle.
Historically American cars sounds rugged, tough, virile and cool. Think Mustang, Charger, Thunderbird, Stingray, Viper, Barracuda and Falcon.
It probably says something about the American psyche, and their relationship with cars that today's models in the US are called things like Lucerne, Lacrosse, Vue, Aspen, Journey, Taurus, Vibe, Solstice, Escalade, Equinox and Suburban.
Safe, middle-of-the-road, essentially meaningless. They tell us as much about America and its identity crisis as it does the Big Three's recent loss of direction.
Elsewhere the Germans and Swedes are coolly efficient - all clinically alphanumeric - whereas the Koreans have been naffly aspirational - Sonatas, Entourages and Genesis-es. Kia has broken the mould, adding plenty of punctuation marks to its meaningless names (cee'd, No.3, VG).
[caption id="attachment_412" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Hyundai Sonata - unlikely to bring classical music to mind"]
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I'd defy anyone to make sense of the thinking behind the naming conventions of the cee'd and its many offspring. I'm aware of the explanation of what cee'd is supposed to mean, but I can't bring myself to recite it.
Renault has gone increasingly meaningless, with Modus, Laguna, Clio, Koleos and now Ondelios.
Italians have a flair for the dramatic and romantic. Many Lamborghini models are, after all, named after bulls with a habit of goring matadors.
The Brits have loved their classical, patriotic and vaguely jingoistic names: Spitfires, Defenders, Allegros.
[caption id="attachment_404" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Land Rover Defender - typically British bullishness"]
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The worst car names usually come from the Far East, which would suggest that something gets lost in translation. Mazda and Daihatsu are the worst offenders, with some of their efforts sounding more like Japanese import role-playing games (hello Toyota Estima Lucida G Luxury Joyful Canopy).
These are a weird mix of aspirational, descriptive and simply baffling. It seems quite likely that in native markets these cars don't inspire a second glance but, as several automotive companies have discovered, car names don't always survive translation (hello Mitsubishi Pajero).
With all of this in mind, and with a wealth of experience in searching far and wide for the most ridiculous names on the block, I offer the following list, detailing the ten stupidest car names I could find. As far as I can tell, they're all genuine.
Tune in over the course of the week for more naming lunacy from car-makers - if your favourite crap name is missing, there's a good chance I've got it in a different list.
[caption id="attachment_405" align="alignnone" width="400" caption="Mitsubishi Minica - hatch version were called the Mitsubishi Lettuce"]
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Ten stupid car names
• Mazda Carol
• Mazda Mysterious Utility Wizard
• Mazda Proceed Marvie Will Breeze
• Mitsubishi Lettuce
• Mitsubishi Mum 500 Shall We Join Us
• Nissan Cedric
• Suzuki Alto Afternoon Tea
• Suzuki Every Joy Pop Turbo
• Toyota Cist
• Yamaha Pantryboy Supreme