Names for What We Love

       When my aging white Dodge Neon is behaving particularly well, I  still call it by the names developed years back on my 4,500 mile "West Coast Trip."  If you can reliably depend on anything mechanical for that long, you have a relationship and a sense of gratitude.

       Early I came up with a name that I thought would stick:  "White Steed."  But I woke one day in Astoria, Oregon to say, "Good morning, Steed," and realized I'd given it a nickname.  Other monikers ensued such as "Motorized Wonder," and in a burst of enthusiasm, after we both had been refueled at a terrific lunch stop in Hope, Canada,  I even jammed my foot on the accelerator and said, "Let's go, Big Guy!"

       "Big Guy"?  This is the vehicle that had been dwarfed at a downtown Banff street corner as I gaped through my windshield at an ELK towering head and shoulders above us.
                                                   (Continued tomorrow)