Names for What We Love, 2

       (Continued)  The furthest extent of my 4500 mile road trip was Pyramid Lake, Canada.  When I headed south again toward Jasper, British Columbia, I  curled the car around some small breathtaking ponds with the morning mist rising mysteriously from them, and said proudly to my Neon, "You are my gallant, my horse.  I get on your all fours, and we go."

       But it was along a lonely stretch on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, late in the afternoon, with few cars, and not a radio station anywhere on either dial, that I had first captured the jointness of our crazy venture together by suddenly addressing my companion as "Rosinante," the faithful four-legged fellow traveler of Don Quixote.   This remained my favorite intimate name for my Dodge Neon.

       I still call out these names on occasion, but there's a hint of strain and nostalgia to it now.  Yet it's true that when I lock up everything at night, I do at times peak into the garage and say, "Hi."